Beneath the Shield
by Narex
Summary: This is the story of Argis the Bulwark's life, and how he eventually became the Dragonborn's housecarl and husband. M/M pairing, so if you don't like it don't read. Rated M for explicit violence and sex in later chapters. Undergoing gradual rewrite.
1. Chapter 1 Rewritten

AN: First off, I make no profit off of this and Bethesda owns everything. I put out the first chapter for this fic a while ago, but as this is my first fic the first chapters are in need of additional work. The story itself, like the summary said, is centered around Argis and how he eventually marries the dragonborn. It will focus primarily on Argis' life. This will contain M/M pairing, and eventually explicit sex, but the graphic scenes will always be flagged and allow for you to just move to the next chapter without missing relevant information.

Reviews/criticism/comments are greatly appreciated! Even if you hate it, I would like to know why.

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"It doesn't have to end this way," called the figure from above as two globes of fire magicka ignited in his hands. Squinting his good eye against the sudden light, Argis the Bulwark raised his shield with a resigned sigh and knew that it would not stop the attack. Argis was old and tired, and having lived well for decades he really couldn't complain about the ending to it. As the two hands pulled back to throw their fiery burdens, Argis raised his shield one last time. Under the illusory shelter of the dragonbone shield, he snorted in surprise. It really was true what they say – your life _does_ flash before your eyes right before you die.

In a small farm somewhere to the east of Markarth lives were unravelling.

A dishevelled looking farmer bellowed at a young man, "You can't leave! You know we need you for the harvest. Besides, you're too young for this!"

Shouting back, the young man replied, "You heard what he said – if I don't go, we'll all be branded traitors."

A young girl clung to her mother's skirts and looked fearfully at the two men who continued to exchange harsh words, not understanding why her brother would have to go.

"Stop chasing empty glory and fortune, boy!" roared the old man, "They'll take you nowhere and get your nothing!"

"I'm not!" shouted the boy, and then in a much quieter voice, "I'm not. I have to go, because if I don't, we're all going to get hurt."

The man sucked in another breath for a loud rebuttal but his wife stepped forward and gently placed her hand on his arm, forestalling his tirade. She spoke softly, having listened to the angry words long enough, "Let him go. He's been itching to leave the farm for a long time and he's doing what he thinks is right. You'll never really stop him if he believes he's on the right path."

The old man seemed to deflate under his wife's touch and quietly nodded, all of the fire had gone out of him, "Go, Argis. Go and fight and die for a war that has nothing to do with you. Die for a man who doesn't care about you at all." He stepped back and looked away for a moment before looking back to Argis with his eyes glassy from unshed tears.

The woman stepped forward and gently embraced her son, who was quivering with the effort of holding back his own tears. She crooned soothingly as he stroked his blonde hair, wished him well, and released him with a brave smile.

His father held his composure for a moment more before rushing forward and sweeping his son into a tight embrace, uttering in a cracked voice, "Stand tall, lad. If you think you're doing the right thing, then do it with all your heart. Go now."

Argis quickly shouldered the pack he had prepared and opened the door, stepping outside. The last thing he heard was his sister's shrill voice asking, "Mama, where's Argis going? Mama? When will he come back?"

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Argis strode quickly towards the military camp that was set up not far from his home of Frost Oak Farm. He was still emotionally shaken by the events that went on at the farmstead, but he was resolute in joining Ulfric Stormcloak's army to fight the Forsworn menace. While Argis' family had never been attacked by the Forsworn, he knew of other families that had suffered greatly at their hands. More importantly, he had heard of what Ulfric would do to those who didn't support his campaign and he wasn't about to let that happen to his family.

The sparse trees around the farm were so familiar to Argis that they barely impeded him as he wended his way through them to where he knew the soldiers were waiting for locals from the area to join up with the army.

He slowed his approach as he got closer to the camp, nervousness overcoming him. He began to second guess his actions as the first flickers of the camp's fires became visible through the boles of the trees but he bit his lip and continued on.

The soldiers' lone sentry spotted Argis and hailed him, "Another volunteer here to join up with the army?" He grinned as he said "volunteer," knowing the situation that compelled so many of the locals to join the Stormcloak army.

Argis nodded wordlessly, too nervous to trust his voice.

The man turned back to the camp and called out, "Hey, we got another farm boy here. We'll have to teach him how to swing a sword instead of a ho." He looked back to Argis, "Go to the other recruits over there." After surrendering his bag of food to the soldier, Argis followed the pointing finger to a small lean-to where several other Nords sat.

The group was made up of a wide spread of ages with many being as young as Argis, but a few were much older as well. Sitting down amongst the dejected looking group, he looked around for a familiar face but didn't recognize any of them.

A young man with red hair and piercing blues eyes glanced at the new recruit, and Argis took the opportunity to try to get a feel for what was going on, asking as he extended his hand, "I'm Argis – are you also here to help fight the Forsworn?"

Nodding, the man took Argis' hand, "Name's Calder. It's good to meet you. I take it from what the other soldier said that you're a farmer? My father is a travelling merchant who frequented the surrounding farms to both sell his merchandise and offer his – and my – labour for a price."

Argis was glad to have found someone who was actually talkative. The other recruits looked more like prisoners being dragged off to their deaths than volunteers trying to protect their lands. Under the circumstances, Argis wasn't surprised that they felt that way. None of them truly wanted to be there but the threat of retribution for non-cooperation is what ensured that most, if not all, of the volunteers joined.

Argis and Calder spent the rest of the day simply talking about their lives as a way to stave off the despair that seemed to permeate the recruits' lean-to. A few of the others commented now and again but their silence always returned quickly.

As night fell, the soldiers brought bread and cooked-but-cold beef for the recruits. The men ate quietly and the soldiers carried on as if they didn't have so many hungry, tired, and despairing faces watching them.

After a cold night's sleep, the camp packed up and began a march westward. The brisk weather didn't bother Argis as his Nord blood protected him from the worst of the biting wind. A stern looking officer raked his gaze over the assembled recruits and began barking orders. "Form up!" he shouted at them. The men scrambled to obey and formed a rough line in front of him.

The officer's critical gaze swept their ranks before he barked, "Not good enough. You wretches will learn to march as we head back to the main camp and you _will_ be useful in protecting your families and lands from the menace of the Forsworn. Do you understand me?" A ragged chorus of "yes" and several nodded heads had the officer smiling. His loud voice continued, "Good. The rest of the camp has been busy while you slept. We march NOW," shouting the last word at the recruits. They rushed to obey and fell in behind the other marching soldiers.

Once they had the cadence of the march, Argis and Calder were able to keep close to each other and continue their conversation despite the punishing pace they had to move at. Conversation remained quiet, simple, and comforting as the two men gradually left behind the land they knew.

Gradually, large puffs of smoke could be seen on the horizon and the recruits nervously, and rightfully, assumed that they were approaching the main camp. Catching their first glimpse of it from afar, many of the volunteers were amazed by the sheer number of other people there.

Some of the smaller villages would be able to fit in the camp without being cramped.

The camp was a cacophony of noises and it shocked the small town recruits. They openly gawked at the formations of soldiers practicing thrusts and were deafened by the clanging of the many blacksmiths who churned out swords and shields for the army. As their formation marched through the heart of the camp the whispers from the soldiers in front of them filtered back to the new recruits who followed their gaze. Argis caught his first glimpse of Ulfric Stormcloak himself as he stood in a tent with several other important looking men and jabbed his finger at a map on the table before him.

They wended their way through the busy camp and out to a small field outside of the main building. The marching officer met with a man dressed in a bear pelt and exchanged quiet words with him before they shook hands. The man in the pelt stepped forward as the other officer walked away without looking back. Surveying his new charges, the training officer briskly announced, "My name is Fjorn Squallshield, and I don't care what you think you can do or what you're made of. You're now mine to train and to make into something worth noticing if you die." His cold gaze locked briefly with the eyes of each recruit who stood mutely looking at him.

The training began immediately as he had them retrieve a wooden practice sword and shield each. They were quickly introduced to various stances and when each was useful. Fjorn ensured each recruit had a strong grasp of each stance before moving onward. Argis was young and used to hard labour of farm work so he weathered the exhaustive training well.

It was three weeks of hard training, but Argis endured it and even grew to like it as time went on. After all, he had wanted this sort of adventure; it was a rough but honest fulfillment of his desires. It helped that he had Calder to talk to as well, for the two had become fast friends. The simple fact of having someone else to talk to made the training easier to bear, and a sense of camaraderie developed between all of the trainees as they endured the humiliations and triumphs of their practice. A few of the recruits, especially the older ones, remained separate from the forming community as they couldn't forget what they had left behind. They bemoaned the harvests that would go to waste in the fields or families that would struggle due to their missing presence.

The squad of backwater recruits was lined up before Fjorn on their last day of training. Fjorn looked down on them with something approaching pride instead of disdain they had first seen. Two large boxes sat next to Fjorn and he kicked one open to reveal the steel swords they contained and showed the other to have shields. He announced, "You've all come a long way from the shivering skeever who first were thrust in front of me. Ahead of you lies a great and glorious battle against the filthy Forsworn. Any who fall march to Sovngarde!"

He hesitated once before adding, "Tomorrow you will join other units, and we will march on the Forsworn army." This final announcement sent the warriors into a fit of whispers to each other and they almost missed Fjorn's gesture of dismissal.

Fjorn had given the newly minted soldiers the day to themselves before they were sent off to fill in holes in already established units. Argis had quietly slipped away from group as the evening stole over them and returned to their communal sleeping area alone. He sat before a small fire quietly thinking about the last tumultuous weeks of his life.

The crunch of a boot on gravel stirred him from his reverie and he turned to see Calder also approaching the fire. He hesitantly asked his friend in a forced playful tone, "Not going to spend the night drinking, Calder?"

The red haired Nord shook his head, "I missed the quiet. Everyone else will be out drinking, but none of them think about tomorrow, you know? Tomorrow, we could all end up dead and they drown that thought in mead."

Argis merely nodded as the other Nord sat down next to him and joined him in his fire-staring vigil. The silence settled around them, leaving them to their own thoughts, and they were both grateful that the company of the other was not intrusive.

Quietly wondering what the next day would bring, Argis was completely shocked out of his reverie when he felt a hand gently intertwine with his own. He looked up and met Calder's blue eyes with his own brown ones and became aware of the quick smile that was flashed at him as the other man resumed looking at the fire. Questions tumbled through Argis' head, but he didn't want to break the silence which had become sacred with that small gesture. He also resumed watching the fire, but it was more of an act than anything else, as the feeling of the other recruit's hand in his own completely distracted him. He luxuriated in the feeling of possibility that the hand gave him until he heard the tromping of many booted feet returning. He sighed as the other soldiers returned, and the two men pulled their hands apart. They quickly retired to their own tents to await the morning and what it would bring.

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Fjorn had to kick many of the hung over soldiers awake, but the squad managed to make a proper line in front of their sergeant. Looking them over, Fjorn began to announce names and squads. Argis held an outward calm as he heard Calder's name and unit announced and waited for his own. He desperately hoped that he would get to be put in the same unit as Calder, but he was assigned elsewhere. A deep disappointment settled over him as Fjorn finished the last of the assignments.

The men began to disperse, and there were many soldier's pounding each other's backs in farewell, but Argis and Calder immediately gravitated towards each other.

Argis tried to find the words, speaking softly, "I-I don't-"

Calder interrupted with, "We'll see each other again one day. Wait for that day." He extended his hand, looking at Argis with a grin.

The blonde gripped his foreharm in a warrior's handshake, and as they loosened their grips, Argis felt the fleeting touch of their finger tips.

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AN: And so you have the rewrite for the first chapter. I hope to gradually rewrite most of the early chapters, and especially ones that I think have major problems. Please, review and tell me why you liked or hated it!


	2. Chapter 2

Argis awoke filled with nervous energy. This was the day that armies of the Forsworn and the liberators of Markarth would clash. The barbaric Forsworn had been pushed into a valley that forced their backs to a mountain, leaving them trapped. They would fight viciously, but everyone was confident that they would be crushed in the upcoming battle.

He rose, strapped on his armour, checked his sword's edge, and then hefted his shield. All of his equipment was ready, and so was he after a deep breath. He joined his fellow soldiers at the stew pot where an assistant was ladling out stew and giving chunks of bread. Argis forced himself to eat so he wouldn't weaken in battle. Most of the older soldiers similarly ate, but the newer ones who were terrified barely ate a bite.

The men formed up after their ate and stood in their perfect, straight lines. The sergeant of the squad Argis had been put into was named Torold, and his powerful voice bellowed out instructions to the men of the unit. "You will be part of the front line, lads. Advance with the rest of the army and never on your own or else you WILL get cut down." He paused for a moment before continuing, "While you may expect this to be a quick and easy fight, the Forsworn will fight like cornered animals; do not underestimate them." He quickly lead the men in a march to the front of the formations.

War drums pounded as Skalds began to sing songs of past victories and the glories of Sovngarde as the march began. The Forsworn encampment quickly appeared before them and hordes of the enemy swarmed out of tents and the large, old temple that sat at the back of the valley.

As the two forces advanced towards each other, Argis heard the voices of his father, Fjorn, and Calder in his head. He remembered his father's last word, "stand tall," and Fjorn's instructions. He remembered Calder's faith in him, too, and was determined to fight as hard as any of the more experience soldiers.

War cries exploded from both sides as the two groups broke into a charge. The ferocity of the enemy's voices reminded him that even though he was facing Bretons they were not lesser opponents.

The first Forsworn to reach Argis worn little armour besides a kilt and a large deer skull headdress. He wailed loudly as he swung his spiked sword at Argis' head. Argis calmly recalled Torold's instruction regarding those swords and the phantom voice lectured in his head, "Be careful of the spikes. If they hook your weapon, the bastards'll rip it out of your hands. Turn it around on them."

Argis crouched slightly and caught the spikes on the edge of his shield. Using his whole body, he rose up and jerked his shield back which ripped the sword from his opponent's grasp. Argis ran the stunned man through his heart before his opponent could recover. Collapsing to the group, the next Forsworn in the mass attacked Argis, swinging both swords with frenzied speed. Argis scowled at the ferocity of his opponent and was forced onto the defensive or else risk being wounded. After blocking and parrying his opponent's latest attacks, Argis slammed the edge of his shield into the Forsworn's unguarded face, causing him to stagger back and shout in pain. Not wasting a moment, Argis swung his sword, slashing the throat of the other man with his stroke.

Before his next opponent could fill in the breach, a small bolt of fire flew down from the top of the temple and slammed into the ranks a short distance from Argis with a loud explosion. The cry of "briarheart!" echoed up and down the line in fear as a figure with burning hands became visible atop the temple. His thunderous voice chanted as he raised his hands for another shot when a large blast lightning struck him in the chest, staggering him backwards.

Argis cast a glance back and saw an old Nord shrouded in robes chanting and gesturing at the briarheart, his hands crackling with electricity. A surge of relief spread through the army at the sight of the court wizard of Markarth joining the battle, despite the traditional dislike for wizards. The two spell casters began a long range duel as the masses of soldiers at their feet fought.

Argis was forced to concentrate on his own situation when he was nearly disembowelled by a Forsworn axeman who tried to take advantage of his distraction. Argis swung viciously and forced the other man onto the defensive, and then knocked his axe aside with a swing of his shield. The disarmed man lunged for his axe but was too slow and died on Argis' sword.

Forsworn were pouring into the breach caused by the fireball and the Nord army threatened to be split. An unnaturally deep voice called out, "FUS RO DAH," and deafening burst of sonic energy hurtled several Forsworn warriors back. Ulfric had arrived!

Argis cheered as Ulfric and his cadre of bodyguards charged into the gap in the lines and pushed back the mass. The Forsworn seemed to concentrate with sudden vigour on Ulfric and his body guards as they struggled to hold back the press. Being nearby, Argis fought his way over to their side.

He watched in horror as the guard between Ulfric and Argise fell, and the masked assailant jabbed her sword at Ulfric's exposed side. A desperate twist saved his life, but the Jarl was still wounded in the attack, and he collapsed to one knee. In a flurry, Argis swept his sword down, cutting off the attacker's hand and then decapitated her on the return swing. Argis himself stepped into the hole in the defensive wall and joined the elite guards in defending the Jarl.

Ulfric grabbed a small red bottle from his belt, tore the cork off with his teeth and downed the contents in a large gulp. He quickly stood up and stepped back, putting two bodyguards between him and the combat. Ulfric immediately began arguing with a burly warrior carrying a two handed axe, but the argument could only be heard by the nearby guards and Argis.

The axe wielder hissed, "We cannot withdraw or else the entire right wing will be slaughtered by the remaining Forsworn!" Ulfric snarled back, "So let them die. The Forsworn will still lose the day." To punctuate his words, the briarheart atop the temple was transfixed by three rapidly thrown spears of electricity and collapsed in a smoking heap. A great cheer went up from the Nord army. Ulfric suddenly seemed to realize Argis could overhear his argument and his voice suddenly returned to its previous leaderly tones and he shouted for his guards to take the lad with them. Argis shouted back, "I will not leave this spot, even if it means my death. I will stand tall!"

Ulfric visibly gritted his teeth, knowing how it would look if he withdrew while a boy foot soldier held his place. He ordered his guards to stay and under the combined pressure on all fronts, the Forsworn army collapsed and was slaughtered.

After the battle, Argis was ordered by the axe wielder to follow after Ulfric. The Jarl looked down his nose at the battered and bloodstained Argis as his axe wielding officer asked, "What's your name boy?" Argis, nervous again, replied shakily, "Argis of-" but was cut off by Ulfric who stated, "It doesn't matter. Your heroics on the field deserve more than just praise." By now a small crowd had gathered around Argis and Ulfric who paused for a moment before continuing, "You stood strong against overwhelming odds in the defence of your commander. You were a wall that would not be breached by the fiercest assault. You were a bulwark against the enemy, and so shall you be known. Henceforth, you should be known as Argis the Bulwark so your courage will never be forgotten."

Argis had never imagined in his young life that he would get such an honour and he nearly wept with joy before checking himself. Ulfric continued, "Return to Markarth for further training. Your road to glory does not end here." Ulfric grinned at having bought off the only witness so easily, though it looked like a benign smile to the young man.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: See an awkward phrase? Typo? Grammatical monstrosity? Let me know! Love the characters? Hate them and find them as stiff and flat as cardboard? Let me know!

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Withing a few years' time, Argis became an important warrior for Markarth. He was officially a man in every conception and valiant warrior in addition to that. The remaining Forsworn had been scattered to remote camps, but they still plagued the outlying farms and caravans along with the other monsters that were already a threat within the Reach. Argis was never out of demand for people asking him to head a group of warriors in clearing a troublesome group of Forsworn or a cave of trolls.

His farmer origins lay forgotten to everyone but him, but he never forgot that first battle or the days leading up to it. He thought often of Calder, but he never knew what happened to the other man or if he even survived the battle.

One day, Argis was summoned before Jarl Igmund much to the warrior's confusion. He arrived at Understone Keep and was led to the Jarl's throne room. The Jarl sprawled atop his throne as a stranger stood nearby. Argis vaguely recognized the man as one of the people who had helped clear out a few of the caves but had dismissed him as an adventurer out for gold.

The man's dark brown eyes, black hair, and rough hewn features reminded Argis of nothing more than the caves that he helped to clear. The man unnervingly eyed Argis closely, but the warrior ignored him and bowed to the Jarl. He cautiously asked, "You summon me, Jarl?" The jarl nodded and sat up straight before gesturing to the stranger sitting near him. He spoke quickly, "This is Keldin and I am appointing him as a thane. I have decided to honour you with being his housecarl." Argis couldn't hold in his grin as he heard the pronouncement. He strode over to Keldin as Igmund continued, "Keldin, this is your housecarl, Argis the Bulwark." The man nodded wordlessly and ignored Argis' outstretched hand as he looked over Argis like he were examining a horse to be bought.

Gritting his teeth at the treatment, Argis tried to remain polite and asked, "Will you be having me move in to your home? Or shall-" but the new thane cut him off with an imperious gesture and exclaimed, "Continue to live wherever you currently reside. My home is small as it is." Argis simply nodded and turned back to the Jarl, who had begin to speak again, "Keldin plans to make a move against one of the last remaining Briarhearts in the region and I trust you will assist them in any way you can." Argis wordlessly nodded as he turned back to his new thane and asked, "When do we leave?"

Keldin calmly replied, "I have already gathered a group of soldiers. We leave tomorrow."

Argis grinned at the prospect of fighting the Forsworn again and nodded. The Jarl waved his hand, dismissing the warrior. Argis bowed before both of the other men before returning to his small home and checking his gear. He readied his armour as well as the supplies necessary to journey to the camp to the north. He sat on his small cot, looked over the supplies once more before drifting off to sleep.

The following morning he met his team at the gates of the city and nodded at the other people. There would be ten other soldiers, himself, and Keldin. They left quietly and marched quickly for the Forsworn camp. They fully expected to be outnumbered, but to be able to persevere. If they brought too many more people, then they ran the risk of discovery and the Forsworn disappearing into the woods, but if they brought too few soldiers they would be slaughtered.

The first day of marching was uneventful as they were still in territory that was controlled by the Jarl. By the second day they passed most of the farms and were on guard for monster attacks. By the third day they were within attack range of the camp with its rough tents. They lit no fires that night and simply wrapped their cloaks around themselves, their Nord blood preserving them from the worst of the cold. The Forsworn were foolish enough not to take such precautions and their few fires were highly visible.

Keldin quietly went over the battle plan with the men. "We are going to attack in the morning. They know the terrain better than we do, so we can't afford to have them ambushing us or escaping. We charge in, cut them down." He then pointed to four of the men, "You three are going to stay back and the moment you see the briarheart, you pincushion him. Understood?" The nodded grimly and Argis did not envy them their task. It was a dangerous duty to have to watch for and try to kill the briarheart.

The soldiers hunkered down, facing west towards the mountains and the encampment, and waited for the sun to rise. As dawn broke over the cold terrain they leapt into action and charged in towards the camp.

The group's bowmen efficiently dispatched the lone, sleepy sentry who watched over the plains. Argis' blood was up as he charged into their camp, and he wanted to release a war cry that would shake the mountains but he held it in check. Orders were to kill as many as they could in silence before rousing the whole camp – and the briarheart.

His steel shield shining the light, Argis led the charge up the short incline to the first major group of tents which were arranged in a circle. The men quickly fanned out and charged into the tents and screams and shouts poured out of the tents shortly afterwards.

Argis charged into one of the tents and a man was just staggering out of his bedroll and reaching for a nearby sword when Argis rammed his sword through the man's ribs. With all the fighting and noise, he saw no point in holding in his fury any longer and bellowed loudly.

Rushing out of the small tent, he saw that the soldier's were regrouping in the middle of the tent ring. Argis frowned to see that they were one soldier short, but that the four bowmen remained. Up another short incline, the Forsworn were rallying and the other half of the camp came alive with shouting warriors. Argis took a deep breath, settled his shield on his arm, and lead the charge up the ramp with a fierce shout.

Arrows from both directions rushed by him, and he heard a loud scream from behind him. He swore mentally, trying to keep count of his remaining men as an arrow stuck in his shield. Reaching the top of the ramp, he pushed into the still assembling Forsworn there and immediately disembowelled a man. His large frame and fierce cry made his enemies hesitate, which allowed the rest of the remaining soldiers to arrive with him. "For Markarth!" Keldin resounding shouted, and the Nords pressed into the Forsworn horde.

The battle was definitely in the favour of the Nords with the element of surprise and the presence of the bowmen. The four archers stayed in a tight clump and used their arrows sparingly and aimed only for other archers or for places where the other soldiers might crack. Lightning suddenly hit the lead bowman, and forked into the other three. The one first hit collapsed to his side, smoking, and did not rise. The other three staggered apart and looked for the source of the bolt. The briarheart had joined the battle.

With a ghastly wound in his chest the spellcaster looking impassively out over the battle before throwing a bolt of fire at one of the archers. The man tried to dodge, but his shocked muscles couldn't respond in time and the spell hit him in his leg. He shouted in pain as the spell ignited his leg, but screamed louder when the magical fires began to spread to the rest of him. Behind the deer head mask, the wizard's face was unreadable.

Argis was locked in combat with a reinvigorated horde of Forsworn, who had rallied when their commander showed up. Swinging his sword and dagger in a vicious flurry that quickly killed his opponent, Keldin roared, "Push through to the briarheart before he can cast more spells. Archers take him down!" The remaining two archers raised their bows and released shots at the briarheart, who ducked behind cover to avoid them. He could only pop up and hurtle weak spells for fear of being shot. Thus suppressed, the remaining Nords in melee pushed even harder to try to kill their opponents.

A comrade to Argis' left suddenly screamed and collapsed. Argis whipped around to see the man's blade caught in one of the Forsworn's swords and the other sword buried in Argis' friend's side. Argis swore and struggled to hold off two attackers, his sword and shield rang as they repelled blows. Keldin suddenly engaged one of Argis's assailants, neither of whom were a match for either Keldin or Argis on their own.

After using his shield to push the dead Forsworn off his blade, Argis used the moment to breathe and look around. He winced again at seeing only three of the remaining swordsmen still standing, but they were whittling away at the last opponents. A sudden crackle of lightning and a scream from one of the archers told him that the briarheart was still active.

The last archer looked panicked as he knocked arrow and after and fired them at the barely contained briarheart. Clanking loudly, Argis charged up the last incline to the briarheart in an effort to kill him before he wiped out the rest of them. The briarheart immediately oriented on Argis and shot a jagged shard of ice at him. Argis instinctively blocked the spell, and the ice shattered upon impacting the shield but the frost magicka penetrated through numbing his shield arm. He grunted in surprise, but as a Nord he was no stranger to the cold and kept moving. He was close enough to see the briarheart's eyes widen in shock as the heavily armoured warrior charged in. Argis grimaced as he saw the briarheart put his hands together and mould a large fireball in his hands, knowing that there was nothing Argis could do. An arrow suddenly struck the Forsworn wizard in his arm and penetrated all the way through.

Instinctively, the wizard screamed and clutched his arm, abandoning his spell. Taking advantage of the distraction, Argis jammed his sword into the gaping hole in the man's chest, hoping that there was still a vital organ to hit. The briarheart instantly stiffened before collapsing to the ground, dead.

Argis raised his sword in appreciation to the remaining archer who smiled back shakily and raised his bow in acknowledgement. Keldin walked up to Argis who stood alone at the peak of the encampment and smiled widely. He clapped the exhausted warrior on his shoulder and crowed, "An excellent victory, is it not? We did well here today." Argis looked at the blood soaked earth, and in particular at the six fallen soldiers from Markarth before coldly replying, "Tell that to those who now reside in Sovngarde – show some regret for those lost." "You _will_ treat your thane with more respect in the future, housecarl," snapped the once-adventurer. Keldin frowned sharply before walking away. Argis could hear his cheerful voice calling out the men, "I'm sure the jarl will reward us with a feast and great reward for this grand victory. Come, let's return to Markarth." Argis glowered at the man's back, thinking darkly about how adventurers never lose their greed.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Thank you for those who have reviewed so far, I am reading and appreciating your suggestions! All constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. Be warned, this chapter will contain graphic bits towards the end but it will be flagged in story, so if you want to skip to the next chapter once that part starts feel free to.

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The men who perished were brought home on rough gurneys made of branches which were dragged along the ground. Keldin had gone ahead to Markarth to pass along word of their victories and send for horses for the bodies. The journey home was much slower due to wounds and the burden of the bodies, but Argis didn't mind as it gave him time to think.

Quietly dragged two bodies behind him, he marched stolidly onward. He mentally thought over the end of the battle with the Forsworn and doubted himself. Was he right to have criticized Keldin? Besides the problem of speaking back to his superior the survivors had needed something to rally behind. The people of Markarth would also be ecstatic over the death of a briarheart and would heap praise upon all those involved in the battle. It was the callous disregard for the dead in Keldin's words that disgruntled him. The Imperials would have termed the dead "acceptable casualties" or something similarly empty, and Keldin didn't seem to see them as anything else. He took solace in the fact that the dead would be properly interred by a priest of Arkay and that their loss would be remembered along with the accomplishments of the living being celebrated.

He shook his head at the nagging worry left by the very fact that he doubted his thane. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. The skald's stories always told of housecarls fearlessly following their thanes, implicitly trusting them, and even giving their lives in the defence of their thane. He felt disappointed in himself for not being a true housecarl. The other men appeared to be similarly lost in thought on the walk back and conversation was minimal and very utilitarian.

On the afternoon of the fourth day, the walls of Markarth came into sight and the spirits of the survivors lifted. Soon, snippets of excited talk began to break out among the bearers about the feasting waiting for them back in the city. Argis quietly frowned, realizing that the horses Keldin had promised never came. The horses weren't to make the lives of the living easier, but to give the honoured dead a swifter and more dignified transport. Realizing that he was doubting his thane again, Argis shook his head and tried to be lifted by the cheer surrounding him as his fellow soldiers rejoiced.

Jarl Igmund met them at the gate and smiled broadly at them. A small crowd cheered for the returning fighters. The jarl called out, "Today a great victory has been struck against the Forsworn horde. Another one of their briarhearts and many of their warriors fell before the blades of our new thane and the men he led."

He gestured to the bodies being born behind Argis before continuing, "And though we lost some as well, the sacrifices of the honour dead shall not be forgotten. The victory of today would not be possible without them and so they shall be cared for in the halls of Sovngarde!" At this point a priest of Arkay and some assistants dragged the bodies away from the soldiers and towards the crypt.

Igmund waited until the dead were removed before grinning again and announcing, "As we honour the dead, so to must we honour the living. A great victory was struck today and we shall let any remaining Forsworn hear of our joy, no matter where they hide. Come, join us after refreshing yourselves."

Argis was familiar with this gesture. Though the large feasts could be expensive, they helped to cement the approval of the people and make for a popular ruler. By feasting the soldiers, small victories are also blown into major victories to raise the prestige of the hold compared with the other lands. With the silver mines opening up, Markarth was in no short supply of coin, making costs less important than the result.

Argis stopped by his house quickly to wash most of the dirt and a few fleck off blood off his armour and body. He made sure to run his wet cloth behind his ears and over his blunt-but handsome features, just as his mother had taught him as a child. He quickly changed out of his armour into his nicest shirt and breeches he had. He quickly washed the grit from his shoulder-length hair and ran a straight razor over his face quickly. He stroked his clean-shaven face with a smile and he readied himself for the celebration. It was always a raucous affair but those being honoured had to show up looking their best, even if not in full military accoutrements.

He walked quickly to Understone Keep where the celebrants were already beginning to enjoy themselves. Argis wasn't the first one of the soldiers to enter, nor was he the last and he mingled with the crowd as the last of the men trickled in.

Many of the people he spoke with congratulated him on the victory, but conversation inevitably shifted to his thane. How did he lead? How did he fight? Was a good thane? Argis wanted to voice his honest opinion but bit his tongue and kept his answers praising but minimal.

The Jarl stood and the crowd fell silent to listen to his pronouncement. The Jarl's voice echoed slightly in the stone confines of the chamber as he declared, "Keldin, our newest thane, has been in our service for only a short time but has already led us in victory against those who would destroy us. He did not win this battle alone, though, and the contributions of the others must be noted. In particular, Keldin wishes to praise Argis the Bulwark who stood not only sword-to-sword with against the Forsworn but also slew the briarheart." Applause broke out and Argis smiled awkwardly, wanting to mention the archer who had made the victory possible. He held back, knowing the importance of a hero. If Keldin had wished to thank him, he could have done it on the field of battle instead of this pretentious gathering of merchants and social elite. "Now," began the jarl, "we will truly feast in celebration of our victory!" Thunderous applause rang out and bottle of mead was shoved into Argis' hand.

It seemed every guest wanted to curry favour with the briarheart slayer and his thane. Argis lost track of the people who wanted him to pass on their congratulations and various offers to Keldin. The constant meads being forced into his hand didn't help with his concentration either, and he wasn't sure if it was too much mead or the favour seekers that was making him feel slightly nauseated. He politely excused himself and watched as the people promptly forgot about him.

He stepped out into the brisk night air and breathed it in happily. The soft sound of the nearby waterfalls soothed him as he stepped away to urinate into a channel he knew was headed for the sea. He felt the cool mists softly fall on his skin as he walked to a secluded area. The night was brisk, but it was not cold enough to make him consider going back in right away. Usually, the parties turned into power plays by the city's elite as the night wore on and Argis knew he wouldn't be missed. He and the other victors were just an excuse for the Jarl to get everyone who mattered into the same room.

He undid the laces on his breeches as he debated even returning to the party or just going home before tomorrow's hangover got any worse. He smiled and sighed in relief as he began to release his full bladder. The soft sound of footsteps on the hard stone of the walkway alerted him to someone else approaching. He looked away from the approaching person, hoping it wasn't someone else looking for him to pass a word on to Keldin. Didn't they know the thane had his own damn ears?

A man's voice, not as deep as his own and soft, spoke up, "Oh, sorry. Didn't know this was being used." Argis looked back towards the man and recognized one of the soldiers from the battle who was only a few years older than Argis.

He finished and was lacing his breeches up when the man coughed slightly before asking, "Mind if I go anyway? I'd have to cross the party to get to the next sea-bound grate."

Argis laughed slightly and nodded with, "Of course! I wouldn't subject another person to that party if I could help it."

Argis quickly drank in the man's handsome features, ice blue eyes, and close cropped black hair as he began to slowly walk away. He mustered his self-control and pulled his eyes off the prominent cheekbones and strong jaw and was about to start walking away from the urinating man. When the other man began, "I don't think we were ever introduced. I'm Firjald by the way. You are, of course, Argis the Bulwark." He stopped for a moment to begin lacing up his own breeches before continuing, "It's nice to actually talk to another warrior and hear something other than the empty praises inside."

Argis felt his heart rate pick up, but tried to crush it with firm pragmatism. The man was just making conversation and, like Argis, didn't want to return to the party. It didn't mean anything, but he hoped anyway. He bit his lip for a moment while Firjald wasn't looking. The mead must have muddled his mind because he replied candidly, "The sycophants in there only look for favour with those in power." Firjald nodded at Argis and smiled, revealing perfectly straight white teeth.

The blonde couldn't help but smiling back at the attractive man. His father's voice flashed through his mind, "Looking to conquer a Nord man is just as worthy a challenge as trying to conquer a Nord woman." What his father hadn't mentioned was the stigma attached to the one being conquered. It was the quiet looks, muttered words, and lost esteem that had happened to other men which made Argis keep away from love. The conqueror had faced no repercussions and even rarely saw an increase in esteem, while his lover almost always lost it. One thing Argis had never told his father was that, despite his size and physicality, he wanted to be conquered.

Firjald dragged the other man's thoughts back to the present by casually mentioning, "Sure are some pretty girls in there though." His eyes mischievously twinkled before he added, "You seem to enjoy the mead and meat, but never the women – is there a woman who has gotten behind the Bulwark's defences to reach his heart? What maid has made the warrior a man?"

Argis mentally sighed as his pragmatic half crowed triumphantly over his imaginative half. He gave Firjald a smile before beginning, "No, I've never been interested-" before catching himself. By Ysmir, did he just give himself away? Damn the mead.

Firjald kept his face and voice very neutral as he finished Argis' sentence with, "in women." His voice made it clear that it was a statement and not a question.

Argis raised his chin slightly and nodded before folding his arms across his chest. His mead fogged brain quickly decided to attempt damage control and added, "The Bulwark has never been breached," with a small smile at his own pun. If Firjald spread this knowledge, at least it wouldn't place Argis in a bad light.

Firjald stepped closer to Argis, blue eyes locking with brown. In the back of his head, Argis realized how close in height they were but kept his visage stern as he stared the other man down, daring him to make an accusation.

Firjald's face suddenly split into a grin, and he murmured, "Me neither," before pulling Argis in for a kiss. The surprised blonde's eyes widened in shock as his lips made contact with Firjald's. He quickly unclasped his arms, and deepened the kiss as he felt hands wander down to his hips. He was dizzied with how fast this was moving from his first kiss to something more serious.

His hot tongue slid against Firjald's until they broke off the kiss for air. Stroking Argis' thigh slowly, Firjald whispered, "Let's go somewhere more private." All the blood had left Argis' brain for his nether regions, leaving it mead and lust fogged, so he nodded wordlessly. Careful not to fall, he trailed Firjald to a small inn.

Inside, the inn was dimly lit and only those seated near the lamps were clearly visible. Firjald threw some coins on the bar and exchanged a quick word with the barkeep who gestured up the stairs. Argis tried to remain subtly in the background, not wanting to announce his affair to all the patrons. Firjald beckoned Argis over and led him up the stairs to the back room on the left. He opened the door for Argis who entered with a little hesitation, but Firjald quickly stepped in and closed it behind him.

(((((Graphic sex begins)))))

Argis felt Firjald's hands on his broad shoulders before they slid down his sides to his hips and pulled Argis against Firjald's engorged cock, still trapped within his pants.

Firjald released Argis long enough to pull his own shirt off, and Argis drank in the sight of the other muscular Nord's chest. Firjald looked at him expectantly, and Argis quickly pulled his own shirt off, revealing his toned and slightly scarred chest. Firjald gave Argis the widest grin he had ever seen and quickly moved in to resume their deep kiss.

Firjald broke off the kiss to move down Argis' battle hardened body, making the young blonde shudder as his nipples were sucked gently. Even as Firjald's mouth was busy, his hands were not inactive and he quickly unlaced Argis' breeches and pulled the down. Having freed his partner's nine inch erection, Firjald got to his knees and began to suck the tip of it.

Argis groaned and murmured, "So good, so good," as the blue eyed Nord continued to suck his dick. Taking more of Argis' manhood into his mouth, Firjald took the entire length down his throat and moaned, making Argis buck in pleasure. Firjald's mouth filled with the taste of precum with each twitch of the cock in his mouth. Firjald's hands quickly let down his own breeches before they turn to massaging Argis' ass.

The blonde was so lost in the pleasure of his first blow job that he barely noticed the hands until Firjald pressed the pad of his finger against Argis' entrance. The younger Nord looked down at his partner, who was looking back at him as he slowly slid the other man's cock out of his mouth.

Rising slowly and kissing him once, Firjald asked, "Are you ready?" Argis nodded shakily and was led to the bed where Firjald lay him down.

Trying to assuage the fear he saw in Argis' eyes Firjald pulled out a bottle and a small tin. He held up the tin and opened it, watching Argis' eyes follow it before snapped back to his eyes at the sound of his voice uttering, "Healing salve – for your comfort and mine." He then applied a liberal amount of it over his own nine inch erection, pumping himself slightly to ensure he was completely covered. He held up the green bottle and announced, "Stamina potion – for our pleasure tonight." He then popped the cork and drank down the small, green bottle.

He knelt before Argis' prone form with two salve slicked fingers and gently inserted one into Argis who gasped at the contact. He ran his finger along the walls of Argis' passage until he saw Argis buck and his cock oozed a little more precum. Grinning, Firjald slid a second finger into his lover and repeated the process watching the other man gasp wantonly.

Firjald stood and pressed the head of his cock against the puckered entrance, looking the other man in the eyes and asking, "Ready?" He received a nod and slowly pushed into the virgin heat of his lover. He got half way in before stopping to get his blonde companion adjust and he watched the slightly panicked look fade a bit before he pressed all the way in.

Argis looked pained and nervous, but Firjald was so lost in the sensation of being inside Argis that he didn't see. He slowly pulled partway out before sliding back in, hitting the prostate each time. He gradually picked up the pace until he had a smooth rhythm down and both men were moaning happily to the beat set by their slapping flesh.

Argis' fingers dug into the sheets on the bed until he felt a hand close around his cock, pumping it in time with the thrusts of his fellow soldier. He looked at the muscular handsome man who was burying his cock inside Argis and grinned wildly because he was living out a fantasy he thought would never come true. With each pass of Firjald's dick in and out, he hit Argis' prostate and made the younger man gasp with pleasure as stars exploded behind his eyes.

The constant stimulation in his ass and the other man's hand on his dick pushed Argis over the edge and with a sharp cry he came all over his abs. Firjald felt his lover's passage tighten around his cock and gods did he ever want to pound into that extra-tight heat. He waited though, not wanting to hurt Argis and so he stayed still while the other man's pleasure rode itself out. It ran its course quickly, and Firjald began with a few slow thrusts before resuming his pace. Argis gasped as Firjald's hand kept working his oversensitive and now very wet cock. He stopped holding his legs up and wrapped them around Firjald, wanting the man as deep inside him as possible.

Firjald bent over to kiss Argis, and he only moved his hips in small increments as he kissed and made love to the other Nord. The head of his cock rapidly passed over Argis' most sensitive spot, and Argis released a large grunt as his cock pulsed madly in Firjald's hand, releasing what little seed it had left on the bellies of both men.

Firjald broke off the kiss and resumed his previous rhythm as he grinned and saw the two loads of jizz splattered in Argis' slightly hairy chest and belly. By Ysmir, he loved virgins.

The dark haired man could feel his own climax building below his gut. Grunting as his thrusts became rapid and erratic, Firjald came deep inside Argis who gasped as the liquid heat filled him. Thrusting a few more times to milk himself clean, Firjald pulled out and let his companion's legs slip to the ground. The two sweaty men regarded each other, breathing heavily. Firjald contemplated making Argis suck him clean, but decided not to push the other man too much.

Taking a cloth and the water left in the room, Firjald tenderly cleaned up both of the men. He kissed Argis once before laying down next to him to get some sleep in the few hours remaining before dawn.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: I've had at least one person wonder when the Dragonborn will show up, which is a fair question considering that the story is flagged to contain him/her. I wanted to place the emphasis of this story on Argis, and not the Dragonborn, because the Dragonborn has the entire game to have his/her story told while Argis has nothing. The chronology also presents a bit of a problem. The war to free the Reach took place 20 years before the return of the dragons, so I had to scale Argis' age back to ensure he's not too old when they do finally meet. Don't worry, I don't plan to write out the remaining 15 years in great detail. I plan to have the Dragonborn make his first appearance by the end of the chapter after this one, so hold on!

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Argis blinked groggily as the early morning light filtered in through the window. A moment of confusion washed through his head. Where was he? This wasn't his room. Last night suddenly came back to him and he quickly turned and saw Firjald on his other side, confirming that it had happened.

Rolling out of bed, Argis slowly began to dress himself. He nervously looked to Firjald, who stretched languidly on the bed. Argis nervously spoke up, "You're going to keep this quiet, right?" He quietly feared that the other man would try to build some sort of prestige on claiming he'd slept with the housecarl.

Stretching and gradually sliding out of bed, Firjald nodded reassuringly and replied, "Of course. I will be discreet about what happened." He flashed Argis a roguish grin and approached him, "Especially since I would like it to happen again." Argis flushed and reciprocated Firjald's kiss.

Firjald traced a fingertip across the right side of Argis' face and smiled at him before murmuring, "You should get a tattoo. It would help make you more distinct as a housecarl and a warrior."

Argis chuckled nervously and replied, "Those markings are only for the true warriors."

Firjald continued to brush his fingers across Argis' face and said, "I watched you fight, my love. No one would dispute your right to one. There's an artist near who owns a small shop in the one of the middle tiers, near the alchemist's shop, who could do it for you today." Argis wordlessly smiled and looked away, thoughtfully rubbing his face.

When both men were dressed, they quietly left the room and wandered down to the main room. The grimy windows barely let any light through and the place seemed as dimly lit as before. They both left the inn and separated to go their own ways. Before Argis went two steps Firjald called out, "Oh, hold on a moment. I forgot to mention that the Jarl wants to see you and Keldin at high noon."

The housecarl nodded quickly and walked the city's stone paths to his house. He entered his house and sat down on the bed, running his hands through his hair. He felt a curious mixture of fear and elation over last night. Would Firjald keep his promise and keep quiet or would he drunkenly brag about his lover? He shook his head and stood up. Things were already decided either way so moping over it was pointless. He combed his hair quickly and washed his face. Looking at himself in a small mirror he had spent a lot of his coin on, he was satisfied that his appearance did not look too slovenly for a meeting with the Jarl.

There was still plenty of time left in the morning, so he wandered to the market where he bought supplies for his household and then returned home with them. The mundane and routine nature of these actions helped calm him down and get his mind focused on the upcoming meeting. It was unlike the Jarl to call a meeting so shortly after a victory and it made Argis nervous. He shrugged to himself and quickly ate half a loaf of bread to assuage the hunger he was feeling. He had eaten sparingly at the feast and tried to drink moderately, and so he was famished by the time he had come home.

With high noon approaching, he donned his armour and marched to Understone Keep. Passing the guards at the door with a nod, he ascended the stairs to take him to the terrace with the throne room. He entered the throne room and saw Keldin standing discretely to the side, and the Jarl sitting on the throne. The jarl looked absolutely miserable and like a complete wreck. Evidently, he had let his party get the better of him. Waving his hand dismissively while massaging the bridge of his nose he muttered, "Thane, tell him why he has been summoned."

Nodding in his usual dispassionate way, Keldin announced, "Our scouts have reported the presence of a hagraven among the Forsworn of the wilds. As you may know, hagravens often assist in the empowerment of Forsworn into briarhearts and speed up the process. If we can eliminate this hagraven, then we can almost assuredly cripple their ability to train and empower new briarhearts. We've been tracking her appearances and we think we know where she'll appear next. The jarl wishes us to trap her in the small camp of Forsworn she will be visiting next and then to eliminate her."

Argis nodded at Keldin and asked, "When do we leave and how many men are we bringing with us?"

Keldin paused at this question and seemed to muse aloud, "The Forsworn camp is only about fifteen men and women. The last camp we demolished had almost double that number, but due to the presence of the hagraven we will still bring ten soldiers, plus us. We will also take two horses to carry our supplies. We want to be able to move quickly. As to when we leave? We must leave tomorrow morning or we run the risk of losing the hagraven."

Argis opened his mouth to speak but his thane interrupted him, "Dismissed, housecarl. I will assemble the men. Prepare yourself for tomorrow and ensure everything is in order in terms of supplies for the men."

He quietly bristled at the insult, but Argis nodded and saluted both the hung over jarl and Keldin before leaving. He wandered the dwemer-hewn halls of Understone Keep as he made his way slowly to the quartermaster of the keep.

The man had a clean shaven head and a patch over one eye and was often miserable. Argis had always pitied the man for missing an eye, knowing how hard it was to fight without that depth perception. The bald man's remaining brown eye locked onto Argis and he sighed, knowing that the young Nord never came unless there was good reason. No one visited the quartermaster unless it was for business.

"Well, what do you want?" the man grunted at Argis as he straightened a stack of papers.

Having experienced the man's gruff demeanour before, Argis wasn't fazed by the man's coarse ways. He calmly replied, "We have another raid to go on tomorrow. We will need to supply and outfit ten men for a journey of approximately a week total. Please send the supplies to the stables with word that the thane needs two horses to carry them."

The quartermaster grumbled something about Argis being too good to carry his own food and wrote several things into his requisition forms before sighing and saying, "You'll have your food, arms, potions, and horses, lad." He turned back to his papers and resumed writing. Argis simply walked out, shaking his head to clear it of thoughts of the miserable man.

He stepped out of Understone Keep and looked at where the tattoo parlour must lie. He hesitated only for a moment before heading over to it.

He entered into a clean, tidy little shop with a wiry little man behind a counter. A single chair sat near a window and under a hanging lamp and dominated the center of the room. Argis approached the tattooist who looked up at him and smiled politely before asking, "Argis the Bulwark? I was wondering when you'd come into my shop. Here to finally inscribe your prowess for the world to see?" Argis nodded and shook the man's hand before he sat down on a nearby table to begin discussing colours and patterns. The wiry figure produced a large book with patterns and colour samples prattling aimlessly to himself. The shopkeep tried to make suggestions, and hummed and hawed quite a bit over the book. He muttered for Argis' benefit, "Blue for sailors, red for warriors, and black for those sneaky types. Obviously we would go with red for you..." he trailed off as Argis poured over designs.

Flipping pages casually, one design caught his eye. "I want this one," he declared, tapping the page. The tattooist nodded and said rapidly, "Yes, yes, a good choice. The inexorable wave. Good for you, yes, you who washes over opposition. Now, where do you want it?"

Argis remembered the tracing of Firjald's fingers on the right side of his face, and he smiled and patted his right cheek before stating, "Here will be fine." The little man nodded, gathered his tools and pigments and lay Argis down in the chair. The sting of the needle was painful, but trivial compared to the wounds he'd suffered before. The design was carefully done and finished in a few hours.

Leaning back to examine his work and nodding in approval the tattooist added, "I can make the healing process go much faster for a little extra. You would like that, yes?" Argis flipped the man the extra coin and felt a finger placed on his cheek. The little man chanted a spell and golden light bloomed on his hand and diffused into Argis. He felt physically refreshed from the magic and was glad his tattoo wouldn't bother him on the march. He thanked the man, paid him and left.

It was late afternoon by the time he arrived by at his house and he began to pack for the trip. He suddenly realized that he did not even know where they going to fight and he frowned sharply at the secrecy that Keldin seemed to foster. He winced a moment later as he realized he was mentally criticising and doubting his thane. He tried to dispel those thoughts by focussing on the preparations for the next day, but first he had to eat tonight.

He prepared for his dinner a simple meal of seared salmon, the other half of the loaf of bread, a few local vegetables, and two apples to round out the meal.

After finishing the meal, he again ensured all his equipment and items were in place in preparation for tomorrow. He had done this simple routine many times throughout the years as he had helped to try to make the Reach safer. He looked over his old, but well maintained, steel sword and shield and grinned softly. He gently traced his fingers down the flat of the blade and around the notched rim of the shield as me murmured, "Just another fight, eh? We've been through so many before – what's one more?"

He laughed at himself, feeling absurd for talking to his armaments like that and thought of Firjald. Argis was strongly tempted to seek him out and be with him for another night, but he sighed and thought better of it. He needed to be fresh and alert when tomorrow came and he couldn't afford to be late. Besides, they could always celebrate together after their victory.

Still worrying, he picked up a small, red bottle and slipped it into his pack. He had invested in the healing potion as a precaution but he tried to tell himself that he wouldn't need it.

With the setting sun's later rays fading, he retired to his own bed which felt cold and empty after last night.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Argis rose just before the sun and briskly prepared himself for the coming day. He ate well, not wanting to be exhausted in the march, and then went to the stables.

He nodded approvingly as he found the stable master holding the bridles of two well laden horses. The stable master was a jovial man with sandy hair which he often kept pulled back into a ponytail on the back of his head. He was often ribbed by his fellow stable hands that he was part horse over his hair, but he never took it badly. He raised a hand to signal Argis and called out, "Good to see you, Argis. Hopefully your raid against the Forsworn will see success as always."

Argis mirrored the man's grin and nodded his head, "We're going to kill a hagraven. So I hope we have no complications."

The stable master laughed and said, "Next time I see you, you'll be coming back with great glory then! Maybe the Jarl will make you a thane in your own right. Ah, but I must attend to my own duties now. Good luck, friend!" He passed the bridles of the horses to Argis before the two parted ways.

While he waited for the rest of his companions to arrive, Argis familiarized himself with the horses and their burden and allowed the horses to get to know him. They were solid, tranquil beasts who only snorted slightly upon encountering him. He checked through their supplies to ensure that everything was in order and frowned slightly in annoyance. The quartermaster had given them thin meat rations – didn't he know they needed strength to fight? He would speak with the man on his return.

By now, the rest of the soldiers were arriving together from the barracks and boisterously joked with each other. Argis smiled, reassured to see their good spirits and tried to subtly look through their faces for Firjald. He spotted the man at the back of the group and caught his eye, eliciting a grin and a nod of approval at the sight of his tattoo. Keldin marched briskly down from the gates, his face flat and businesslike. The men quickly sobered at his approach as Keldin moved to stand next to Argis.

Wordlessly snagging the bridles from Argis, Keldin announced to the men, "Today we begin another raid. Hopefully, this one will have a lasting impact on the region because we do not pursue just a briarheart but a hagraven herself. She has allowed herself to become predictable and we _will_ exploit that weakness. Without her aid, the Forsworn will find it nearly impossible to train or empower more of them to become briarhearts. We move quickly and strike hard."

Keldin turned quickly, handed Argis one bridle, and began to march, leading the platoon. Argis rolled his eyes at Keldin's back, because the man showed no idea how to make speeches or lead the men.

During the march, they skirted a pair of giants and their mammoths, but they otherwise encountered nothing as they followed Keldin as he led them north. After three days' rapid, exhausting march, Keldin called a halt on the last night near a small overhang of rock. He declared in his very flat tones, "Over the next hill lies a single terraced hill. The hagraven should already be ensconced in there, performing whatever rituals she does. As before, we will strike just as the dawn breaks to give us the maximum advantage."

Nodding silently with the rest of the men, Argis winced internally. This "ambush at dawn" tactic seemed to be the only one he knew or used. Hadn't he been the one to criticise the hagraven for getting predictable? Besides, they would be charging north, not west, and they wouldn't be able to benefit from the sun at their backs. He almost said something, but stopped himself. Keldin was his thane and had been appointed to that position by the jarl for his success. He would not question him, especially not on the eve of a battle and in front of his soldiers. Besides, they almost always wiped out all of the Forsworn, so how would other tribes know how their comrades perished?

Argis unpacked his bedroll and drifted off to sleep as he watched their small fire burn under the shelter of the rock overhang. He mentally ran over sentry duties, and knew he would rise for last watch in the morning.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Shaken awake for his watch as the previous sentry returned to his bedroll for what little sleep he could get, Argis rose and waited in the predawn stillness. He looked carefully for any signs of Forsworn scouts or other threats. The only signs of life he saw were a few butterflies flitting around and a sabercat in the distance. He didn't worry about the cat – it was smart enough to not try to take on the group of whole, but the men would have to be careful of doing anything alone. He shrugged to himself and dismissed it from his mind.

Doubts about the upcoming battle drifted through his mind and would not be dismissed as easily as the thoughts of the sabercat. None of the men, including Argis, had ever faced a hagraven in combat and he wondered if Keldin knew what he was getting into. The stories of the prowess of the once-witches were quite frightening, but they could be overblown tales to scare children and make the teller seem more fearsome. He nervously worried his lower lip and fingered the red bottle at his side while he watched the wilds and waited for the camp to rise.

The eastern sky was just beginning to lighten as the small camp broke and the men readied themselves for battle. They secured the two horses under the overhang, and took everything they would need with them. The men readied themselves for battle with speed and purpose, and stood ready to fight. The thane regarded the assembled troops with a critical eye before he nodded. Speaking softly in the predawn light he began, "The hagraven should have sequestered herself in their camp, and I believe she may have had time to raise another briarheart in the meanwhile. Because of this five of you will be wielding bows and the other five, as well as Argis and myself, will engage them in the front lines. Otherwise, we try for the same results. Go in quietly, kill whoever we can quietly, and then kill the rest in open combat." He singled out five warriors who took out their bows and nodded.

They approached the camp stealthily, but the sentry saw them and shouted something that Argis couldn't make out. Argis swore to himself and quietly damned Keldin. Attacking at dawn was most effective when the sun was at their backs, blinding their foes, not when they were attacking northward and it blinded no one!

With alarming speed, fully armed and armoured Forsworn poured out of the tents and took shelter when they saw the bows among the Nords. Two Forsworn drew their own bows and exchanged shots with the Nords, who began to charge towards the enemy lines. This Forsworn camp only had one small hill which was thankfully unoccupied, but Argis still worried about where the hagraven was.

"Briarheart!" screamed one of the archers as all five suddenly oriented on the rise. This briarheart wore a deer skull helmet like all the others that Argis had seen, but he didn't try to find cover as the archers snapped their shots at him.

Almost lazily the briarheart brought his hands up to form a shimmering barrier in front of him. Though it wavered slightly, the barrier held and the arrows bounced harmlessly off. Taking advantage of the distraction of the Briarheart, the two Forsworn archers took their shots at one Nord archer, who screamed wetly as arrows sunk into her chest and gut.

Argis had no time to mourn the lost soldier as he began to engage the Forsworn in melee combat. These warriors seemed too well prepared to have been ambushed, and three Forsworn died before one of the Nord warriors wheezed and fell over with a Forsworn sword through his lung.

"Two dead," streaked through his thoughts as he fought and disembowelled an axe wielding woman who died giving him the most hate filled look Argis had ever seen.

The crackle of lightning told Argis that the briarheart was not inactive. The _whoosh_ of flame and an anguished cry from behind him told of another casualty. The briarheart suddenly bellowed in anger and slipped down behind a rock outcropping as an arrow took him in the shoulder. A flare of golden light from behind the rock indicated that he would not be out of the fight for long.

While the briarheart was safe, the remaining three Nord archers refocused on the Forsworn with bows and attempted to eliminate them. Amidst the clamour of the battle, Argis heard another scream from behind him. He slammed his shield into his opponent, and ran the man through. Taking advantage of the moment, he looked up at the Forsworn archer, who had fallen to the ground, giving a crimson smile to the world as the fletching of the arrow that had ended his life pointed skyward.

There were only four Forsworn left between Argis and the briarheart, and three Nord swordsmen in addition to Keldin and Argis. The hagraven, if she was present, still hadn't appeared. Fighting next to Keldin's right, Argis impaled a Forsworn on his sword, and the man screamed bloody spittle into his face before expiring.

Suddenly, two voices were chanting, one male and one female. The male voice finished and a large spear of ice shot out of the briarheart to impale one of the remaining archers who slid to the ground, with a glassy gaze, clutching uselessly at the spear of ice embedded in his chest.

The second voice finished its chant and a brilliant bolt of fire shot out and slammed directly into Keldin. Argis only saw a bright flash and felt a brilliant pain on the left side of his body before he was hurtled away. He screamed and writhed at the pain the wracked his body. His sluggish, fragmented thoughts finally processed that a fireball had exploded next to him. A fireball had just slammed into Keldin, and if Argis was in this shape then how was his thane? This spurred him to try to stagger to his feet, but his head swam and his arms didn't seem to want to obey his head. Why couldn't he see out of his left eye?

He turned his head to see the remaining Forsworn and Keldin as little more than blackened skeletons on the floor. The hagraven stood a short distance away, hand's blazing with fire. She sacrificed the warriors to make a telling blow, he realized. He saw Firjald and another warrior charge the hagraven who threw a smaller bolt of fire at Firjald. He deftly side stepped it before forcing her on the defensive with his swinging sword. She screeched in his face and lashed out with her claws which he dodged by stepping back.

The briarheart heard her screeches and turned in a panic to help. He gestured and a soldier went down screaming in pain as he was engulfed in fire. The briarheart paid for his success with his life as the last archer, a grizzled veteran, placed an arrow in his throat. Smiling grimly at his triumph as the Forsworn spellcaster choked on blood and collapsed, the archer turned back to the hagraven who faced two men with swords.

Argis' thoughts fought through the pain and collected themselves enough to remind him of the red bottle he strapped to his side. Shaking fingers reached it and popped the cork. Sloshing some of it on himself, he downed the bottle. He felt the pain in his side recede and his face tingled as the burned skin regenerated. He knew it wouldn't be enough to completely heal him, but he would be able to rise soon.

He watched with pride as Firjald feinted with his sword, forcing the hag's claws to try to intercept the blade. Firjald whipped his sword up and cleanly decapitated the hagraven. He stepped back quickly to avoid the fountaining blood and barked at the other swordsman, "Put that head in salt and bag. We return with it to Markarth." He stomped over to Argis.

The archer declared as he examined Argis, "He had one healing potion, but he needs at least another from-"

"NO!" shouted Firjald who kicked Argis in the gut viciously. The grizzled archer quickly got up and pushed Firjald back. Firjald continued to shout at Argis, "You bastard! You let him die. You were supposed to protect him. You let my brother die!"

Staggering weakly to his feet, Argis confusedly asked, "Your brother?"

The archer held Firjald back while the man's anger ran its course. His face contorted into a mask of hatred, Firjald snarled, "Keldin was my brother. You were his housecarl – how could you fail him?" Spittle flew with his words while he spat his hateful words at Argis. The dark haired man seemed to sag in the archer's arms and nearly sobbed before collecting himself. He looked at the older man and nodded his head, indicating his control.

Cautiously releasing him, the older man quietly added, "He will permanently lose sight in his other eye without additional healing."

"Good," hissed Firjald, "Let him suffer for his failure and be permanently marked by it."

The shock of Firjald's words and wounds struck Argis like a hammer and he sunk to his knees. Firjald's blue eyes were as cold as the glaciers whose colour they shared and he declared, "We are returning to Markarth with the horses. Do not expect to return to the city with honour." He stormed away from Argis, who sat numbly in the dirt of the Forsworn camp, dumbstruck at how fast things had turned around. He silently watched Firjald and the two soldiers walk out of the camp. The old veteran cast a sympathetic glance back towards Argis before passing out of sight.

Argis dragged himself to his feet and first recovered his sword and shield, singed but little worse for wear, and then began to ransack the enemy camp for a healing potion or even just food. He swore as the former eluded him, but was relieved when he found the latter. The Forsworn had recently butchered a goat, and its cooked leg was stored near a few berries and some bread. He gathered some of their bread into a nearby pouch with him for the road. He grimly ate the meal in silence before deciding to return to the city – where else could he go? It was a very rare thing for a housecarl to outlive his thane, so Argis was unsure of what would happen to him.

He rose and staggered towards the entrance to the camp, stepping over the bloody bodies of the fallen Forsworn and soldiers alike. He hoped Firjald would send someone for the bodies.

He decided to double check the overhang they had originally sheltered in, hoping that they had forgotten something he could use. It initially appeared to be stripped bare, but he looked closely in hope. Hidden out of plain sight, but not hidden from a careful searcher, was another healing potion. He grinned and quietly thanked the man, likely the old veteran, who had left it for him. He downed this potion and felt strength and vigour return to him. He bit his lip in hope that his eye would show improvement and that he would regain sight, but it remained blind.

The gravity of his situation seemed to crash in on him and he wanted to give in to despair. He was destined to live a life of dishonour, so what was the point of even trying to return? He scrubbed his face with his hands and remembered his tattoo. He had earned it by overcoming obstacles, hadn't he? This one would not drive him down either.

He grimly began the long march back to Markarth with the sack of food pillaged from the camp of Forsworn. The first night passed in silence and stillness, but the second day worried Argis. He saw a bulky shadow constantly trailing him on the horizon. He grimaced, recognizing its loping gait for that of a sabercat, and it was probably the one who he had seen before the attack. He made sure to build a large fire every night in the hopes of warding it off and it worked for another day and night. On the third night, it struck.

Argis was just drifting off to sleep when the shadows in the grass moved against the wind. He snapped awake and scrambled to his feet as the creature charged him. His side stepped rapidly to put the fire between him and the great cat. He bellowed a fierce cry at it and swung his sword wildly, hoping to scare it off. The beast merely flattened its ears at him and rumbled low in its chest at him. It lunged at him, claws extended, and he tried to raise his shield and side step to avoid the attack. His lost depth perception spoiled his defence and the cat's claws raked down his blind side.

The sharp agony of his face was balanced by his relief that it was only his blind side that was hit. The cat lunged again, and he caught its fangs on his shield and the metal shattered the creature's teeth. Roaring in agony, it clawed at him once more and he solidly took the blow to his shield before driving his blade into the surprised cat's throat.

It collapsed, copious amounts of blood gushed out of its throat. Argis immediately tore a swathe of his shirt off and pressed it to his face to try to stop the bleeding. He frantically sucked on the empty healing potion bottles and felt a tiny drop of liquid vitality slide down his throat. It didn't stop the bleeding, but it stalled it to the point where it clotted normally. Shivering from the sudden loss of adrenaline, he sat down close to his fire and tried to eat some of his remaining rations.

He woke the next morning feeling ill and with a burning forehead. The rest of his march to Markarth was a fevered dream made of fragmented memories. He recalled staggering past the horrified face of the sandy haired stable master, then stumbling into the temple of Dibella and hoarsely pleading, "Mercy" before passing out.

/\/\/\/\/\

Argis awoke the next morning to a concerned Nord face hovering over his. He gasped in alarm, but she cooed softly, "It's alright. We purged the fever, but our healing was unable to completely repair the damage to your face and eye." She held up a mirror for him to see. He winced as he saw one side of his face with the swirling, blood red tattoo, but the other side held a milky eye and a series of vertical scars from the claws of the cat. She hesitated a moment when she saw his reaction but continued, "You're Argis the Bulwark, correct? You should see the jarl when you're ready."

/\/\/\/\/\

Though Argis felt physically renewed by the healing spells, the lack of depth perception took him time to get used to. He march up to Understone Keep with a heavy heart, fearing what was to come. The guards looked straight ahead and did not acknowledge him as he passed them and went into the throne room.

Firjald stood near the jarl in the place his brother had occupied, and the Jarl himself glowered at the housecarl. Argis stood before the jarl with ramrod straight posture and an impassive face, prepared to stoically bear his punishment. The jarl's low voice was filled with anger as he declaimed, "Argis the Bulwark. You have failed to protect your thane even to the point of letting him die. You further failed to avenge his murderer and left it to others. Your weakness failed the previous thane, and I have appointed his brother as his successor. He slew the hagraven with the aid of another soldier and succeeded where you failed." The jarl rose from his throne before continuing, "You have brought shame to our hold, and I will not risk you further sullying our honour. I will appoint a new housecarl to Thane Firjald. You are dismissed, Argis."

Nodding wordlessly, Argis departed Understone keep with the knowledge that the jarl would likely never call on him again.


	6. Chapter 6

Argis originally felt lost without his position as a warrior of Markarth to give him direction. He had a good deal of coin saved up from his previous rewards from the Jarl and lived off of it while the shock of Firjald's betrayal and the jarl's hatred shook him. He quietly hoped that either one of them would call on him and tell him that he could try again and prove himself. Of course, neither of them did and Argis gradually gave up hope of regaining either his position or Firjald's love.

With the death of the hagraven and the opening of the silver mines, Markarth became a wealthier city than it had been, and many came to it hoping to profit off of its newfound prosperity. Of course, all these new ventures would want capable guards with sharp swords to ensure their interests would be protected. Caravan's travelling to and from the other cities would need guards against bandits or other general monsters. This was where Argis found his new niche.

Some of the employers were leery of a scarred and half blind swordsman, but a demonstration of his skill was all it took to have them signing Argis on to guard their wares, operations, or caravans. He even developed a small reputation as a capable and worthy guard.

The influx of Nords from different holds, and even outside races, helped Argis see the world outside of Markarth. The passing years lessened the sting of his lost prestige, and quietly replaced it with a bitter numbness and cynicism that coloured what he saw in the world.

The years slid by as Argis made a decent living but never moved out of his small home. Slowly, he became use to being a faceless mercenary and not the housecarl of the thane of Markarth. The freedom to choose who to work for and where to fight was a sharp contrast to the orders he often followed as a housecarl.

It was five years after his curt dismissal that word spread through the city that the thane and his housecarl had died. The news struck Argis hard and he didn't know whether to be happy or sad. He felt a bitter joy over knowing that Firjald's coldness came back to him eventually, but he also felt a great sadness over lost hope. The little hope nagging in the back of his head, the hope that things might one day go back to the way they were, died with Firjald. He coldly tried to deny the little voice that continued saying that he was not just sad over lost position, but over lost love. The world was irrevocably changed for Argis with the death of the thane. He heard the announcement but did not attend the funeral for the two. The housecarl's honourable burial galled him and left a bitter taste in his mouth. The man was lucky enough to have died in his failure.

A decade after Firjald's death saw Argis prosperous but not wealthy, and content but not happy. He had just finished guarding a caravan to Dawnstar and was now in bed with one of the other guards from the caravan.

His long tail stroking and tickling Argis' thighs as they lay in bed, the Khajiit spoke up, "Rha'sharj does not wish to spoil the mood, but you seem...less than happy. The performance went well, yes?"

Argis shook himself out his reverie and smiled and the lithe Khajiit gently running his claws down Argis' chest while tracing scars and muscles. He smiled and replied, "Of course. I can see why people say the agility of the Khajiit is a very valuable thing."

The trailing fingers stopped for a moment before continuing and the Khajiit spoke up softly, "But you are dissatisfied with me."

His hand trailed down the Khajiit's tawny fur to his nether regions and Argis replied, "Nothing there dissatisfied me, Rha'sharj." He sighed leaned back, looking at the ceiling as he continued, "It's everything. It's the empty coin and the empty beds. It's not enough."

The Khajiit snorted an amused laugh, "I am surprised to discover that I do not exist." His ears perked up, "Then again, if this is an empty bed, your idea of a full one would be very interesting..."

Argis chuckled and looked to his companion, "You know what I mean. In the morning, you will go your way and I will go mine. Perhaps we will meet on another contract, but what are the chances?"

Rha'sharj shrugged in response, "Would it matter? You would simply find another."

Argis began to sputter out a protest, but the Khajiit waved his hand dismissively, "It does not matter. You took your pleasure by pressing that wood elf into your bedroll during the caravan and Rha'sharj does not begrudge you that. This Khajiit similarly takes his pleasure pressing you into this bed."

Argis blushed slightly and hesitantly asked, "You knew?"

Flicking his ear, the Khajiit replied, "The Wood Elf tried to be quiet, but I am not as deaf as an Imperial." His predatory gaze raking down the Nord's body, he continued, "Rha'sharj can understand why he was unable to be silent though." Rha'sharj chuckled but sobered quickly and sadly added, "You do not live for the same things that Rha'sharj lives for. This is why you will never be happy with this life."

Not wanting to admit the truth behind his words, Argis grunted noncommittally and kept staring at the ceiling. Rha'sharj shook his head and continued, "The money they pay us – it slips through this one's claws so quickly. It turns into moonsugar, food, wine... beautiful companions. What does it become for you? A good meal for a free Khajiit and nothing more." He grinned as Argis winced and shook his head. Continuing despite the man's protests, Rha'sharj spoke, "You need more to live for. Find another hold and find honour there, perhaps. Honour is the Nord's moonsugar." He looked sadly at Argis and added, "No matter how well Rha'sharj does, it will never make you truly happy, and that is what Rha'sharj lives for. Not honour, but the sharing of pleasure and joy." Argis winced at Rha'sharj's words. In his misery, he had hurt the Khajiit in a way he had not expected to.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Argis strode down the streets of Dawnstar thinking of the Khajiit's words. They rang starkly true with him but he wondered what else he could do. He had not been to his parent's farm in years and he wondered if it even still stood. He tried to imagine the peace of farming and the tranquility of tilling the earth, but the image made him grimace. A warrior's path was what rang true for him.

He mentally ran through the other holds and how he could server them, but the prospect of starting over new did not entice him any more than the farm did. He felt a kinship with Markarth's terraced stone structures and frowned at the prospect of never seeing it again. As much as he hated it sometimes, it was ultimately his home.

He applied to a caravan returning to Markarth, and the caravan master happily accepted him. Argis smiled to himself at the effect his name had on different people. Among the elite of Markarth, it was a bane that was ignored whenever possible, but among the mercenaries he was a prized fighter and valuable asset.

He was no longer the young man that he had been, but he what he lost in raw energy he more than made up for in technique and skill. His mercenary career also preserved his body against weakness and forced him to keep his strength up. Having to constantly fight for his life kept his body and wits sharp, and he mentally laughed at the idea of being farmer. His mind would be as quick as the wheat he was harvesting and he shook his head ruefully at the possibility of becoming so dull witted.

The caravan he signed on with left early the next day, which suited his purposes. He wanted to return to Markarth, and the silence of his home. He needed to think.

The trip back to Markarth was a quiet one. The silhouette of a man above the horizon put the guards on edge for an ambush, but their caution ultimately proved fruitless. The towering gates of Markarth filled Argis with the inexplicable mixture of dread and relief as the caravan wended its way into their shadow. He accepted his pay from the caravan master who reminded him that a position would always be open in his caravan for a warrior like Argis. Smiling politely, Argis thanked the man and went towards his home.

Standing in front of his house was a courier with his arms crossed, looking very annoying. "There you are!" the young Nord exclaimed. Argis' face must have registered confusion because the man elaborated in an exasperated voice, "I've been looking all over the city for you for two days. The jarl wants to see you right _now_."

Argis looked ruefully at the shelter presented by his home but sighed and told the messenger that he would head to the Understone Keep. He flipped the other man a coin as a tip before heading into his house to quickly wash the road's dust off his face.

His head was whirling with the possible reasons he was being summoned to the jarl after a decade and a half of silence. He had heard rumours of some adventurer trying to become the thane, but nothing conclusive yet. Suddenly, he worried that it had something to do with the Thalmore lurking in the shadows. He primarily worshipped Dibella, so the Thalmor agents in Markarth couldn't pin Talos worship on him. By Oblivion, he had not even been in the city for most of the time.

His stride was confident as he headed up the city to Understone Keep, but it merely covered his nervousness. He quickly arrived at the keep, and sighed softly to himself to not recognize the guards at the gate. They were both young recruits and they scowled at him fiercely as he passed. He coldly ignored the two watchdogs.

He arrived at the Mournful Throne and stood before it, quietly defying the jarl's judgement. The jarl scowled down at Argis who worked diligently to keep his face impassive. "Argis the Bulwark," said the jarl in a bitter voice, "Do you know why you are here?"

"No, my jarl, I do not," he calmly replied.

The jarl sighed deeply again, "You've heard of that adventurer who wishes to be a thane?" Argis nodded and the jarl continued, "Well, the Thalmor have taken an interest in him. They want him to become thane while I am...less than enthused with that idea. It would be a small concession to the Thalmor, however, so I will soon allow this wanderer to buy Vlindrel Hall and become our thane. He will need a housecarl, though..." the jarl trailed off expectantly.

Argis seethed quietly in rage at the Jarl's subtle implication. He clearly hoped to put a failed housecarl with a thane that he did not want, hoping that Argis would let this one would die off like Keldin did. He knew the jarl thought he was an omen of bad luck and was trying to get rid of two birds with one stone. He felt a shred of hope though, and realized that this was his chance to redeem himself. Perhaps if he served this than faithfully – and kept him safe – he could return to what he once was. With that poignant hope fogging his thoughts, he gave the first honest smile he had in a long while and replied, "I would honoured to accept that post, if you were to have me for it."

The jarl gave a wolfish smile and nodded, "Good. I am happy, the Thalmor will be happy, and the city will be honoured with a new jarl. Now, will you move to Vlindrel Hall and await your new thane?"

Argis nodded enthusiastically and the jarl dismissed him with a wave of his hand and tired smile after giving him the key to the Hall.

The housecarl-once-more walked out of Understone Keep and ignored the scowling guards as he quickly made his way to his home. He gathered up a few essentials from his home before heading up to Vlindrel Hall and unlocking the door.

The Hall was sparsely furnished as it had not been inhabited in almost five years. A crude table and two chairs sat in front of a fireplace that Argis loaded with wood from his own home and stirred to life. He investigated the rest of the spacious dwelling to find it similarly unfurnished. He frowned and spread furs out over the two stone beds in the home to try to make them slightly more comfortable before he watched the fire burn down. He slept in the guest room that night, his mind whirling with the thoughts and possibilities of the arrival of the thane. From the way the jarl made it sound, he would arrive the next day.

/\/\/\/\/\

The housecarl awoke the next day to the dimly lit house and lit a candle before proceeding to go about making the house ready for its new master. He stirred the fire and ate his prepared rations as he stared into the fire. Would this thane be kind or cruel? Reckless or clever? He had heard many rumours of different prominent adventurers and he tried to figure out which one the jarl could be promoting. Was it the sneaky Khajiit who had quietly killed half a dozen Forsworn in their sleep? Or the Altmer wizard who had killed just as many in open combat? Perhaps the Nord warrior who had put down several bears who had been troubling the wilds? No, it had to be a Nord of some sort. He softly sighed as he wondered at the involvement of the Thalmor agents, too. He grimaced and was very curious to meet this Nord who had attracted the capricious support of the Altmer.

He sat in a small room off of the main chamber and stared into the small fire he had built. His musings were interrupted by the sound of a key clicking in the lock and the door being opened. He knew that only the new owner of the manse would have access to the other key to open the door. Argis rose quickly, nervous at meeting his new thane and last chance for redemption in Markarth. The light from outside streamed in the open door and clearly illuminated a figure robed all in black with a glass dagger sheathed at his waist. Argis' heart sunk as he realized he was being attached to a wizard. He mentally grumbled that a wizard thane was absurd, as wizards never left their studies long enough to do much of anything. This was Markarth, not Winterhold! What was jarl Igmund thinking?

The new thane's eyes had not adjusted to the darker interior of the Dwemer styled home and reached up to pull back his hood. Argis' heart went from the pit of his stomach to a seething, burning thing in his chest as he saw golden coloured hands pull back the hood to reveal an Altmer with emerald eyes and shoulder length golden hair. Argis noted in passing that the elf was handsome, but he was outraged that the jarl had essentially given such a prominent position to a Thalmor toady.

The elf's eyes must have adjusted quickly to the gloomier interior because he suddenly spotted Argis standing to the side. The Altmer gave a clearly forced smile and asked, "Argis the Bulwark, correct?" Argis nodded and asked quickly, "And you are the new thane?" while hoping that the wizard would say no. Disappointing him, the newcomer nodded briskly and added, "I am indeed." He hesitated a moment, waiting for Argis to ask him his name, but the surly Nord didn't oblige and the Altmer quickly continued, "My name is Ardanthis, or Ard for short."

Argis wordlessly nodded again, still seething at this apparent betrayal of his city by the jarl. Of course the Thalmor had given this elf their support – he was one of them. The part of his brain not fogged with bitter hate prodded him enough to ask sourly, "No surname? I thought Altmer were supposed to be proud of their lineage."

Ard shook his head quietly, "I left that behind with so much else when I recently fled the Summerset Isles after the Thalmor had truly established themselves."

Argis' thoughts were thrown into confusion. Wasn't this one a Thalmor puppet? He mentally sneered at the High Elf's blatant attempt at trickery. Clearly, this was an act to try to engender his support.

His initial confusion must have shown on his face because Ard continued, "I have lived my entire life under their dominion. I have watched them kill people who spoke out against them, and I am glad I am here in Skyrim where their power is not absolute. I fled the Summerset Isles after they killed my master." He sighed and sat down before the fire, talking to it more than Argis, "And now they back me. I see what they're doing. By backing me they hope to make others hate me and leave me isolated. I will either join them or be easily picked off." He stirred slightly and a forceful edge entered his voice as he quietly spat, "Well it won't work. I _will_ stop them here if nowhere else."

Argis had heard of such refugees from the Thalmor regime, but he had always been sceptical of the truth of their claims. He carefully eyed his new thane, uncertain of how to feel. Settling into a business-like demeanour, he asked, "Do you have any orders from the jarl? Or any of your own, my thane?" He choked out those last words.

The Altmer looked up from the fire to smile at Argis for a moment before looking back to the fire and responding, "We've already got our first bounty. There's a small Forworn camp of about ten that's gotten greedy and plagues the trade routes. One shipment of silver has already gone missing and the jarl is determined not to see another go. He's expecting us two to go in and wipe them out as we are both experienced. I trust this agrees with you."

"Yes, my thane," acquiesced the housecarl. Even if he might be a Thalmor puppet, he still could be useful to the city and to Argis.

The jarl's mission for them was dangerous though. Ten against two, even a highly skilled two, was long odds. Argis looked over the distracted elf's form as he wondered if this one was any good in combat. He had seen wizards who could hurl fire and lightning, but there was no guarantee this one would be as useful. He dolefully retired to his chambers to begin preparing for tomorrow and what could be his death.


	7. Chapter 7

AN: So, if you've read this far I figure I should ask for opinions. Do you guys like long chapters? Short chapters? How do you find the pacing so far? How do you find character development? Help me improve my writing so I can write better stories for you all.

/\/\/\/\/\

Argis was awoken by a loud clanging noise and muttered swearing. He grinned blearily, realizing that his thane had thrown open his door, and not expecting the doors to be so well oiled and balanced, he had thrown it open. The Nord smirked at the man's obvious newness to the homes of Markarth, but he shook his head in dismay when it really sunk in. This man knew so little about the city he was going to be a thane of. Argis rolled off the furs covering the stone bed and winced when his stiff body protested his uncomfortable bed. He could always retrieve the padding he used at his old home, but then he would be honour bound to offer it to this Altmer puppet.

He vigorously scrubbed his face as he placed his feet on the hard floor. The little fire had kept the cold at bay from his room and he stretched himself before donning his armour. He could hear noise coming from the kitchen, and he knew that the high elf was mucking around in there. Grumbling to himself as he adjusted his steel armour to fit snugly over his bulky frame, he quietly hoped that the man at least knew how to cook. He did not want to become a housecarl who swept up after a slob.

Opening the door softly and closing behind him without a sound, Argis clanked over to the kitchen and winced at what he saw. There were several burned chunks of fish on pans near the fire and a sullen looking wizard sitting in the chair by the fire. Ard perked up immediately upon seeing Argis and asked with obvious hope in his voice, "Ah, Argis, good to see you. You wouldn't know how to cook these better than I, would you?"

The Nord seethed on the inside but kept his face neutral. This wizard, supposedly a person of learning, did not even know how to cook? He nearly snarled in disgust at how much influence the Thalmor carried. He realized with a mental jerk that the wizard was still waiting for him to reply and he quickly nodded and stepped over to the unprepared meat. Living alone had taught him to feed himself well, if nothing else. "You don't know how to cook?" he asked, making sure to avoid sounding judgemental.

The wizard archly replied, "I've never really had to. My success clearing out the monsters of the various holds has always given me enough coin to sleep in an inn with beds that aren't stone slabs." He shrugged and added, "Besides, you can precook a lot of your food by simply setting it on fire while it is still alive. Get the raw bits and add a little more fire to cook them through."

Argis merely sighed and continued to set up the various unburned pieces of food that had been left untouched. An awkward silence descended upon the pair as the Nord's innate hostility was further agitated by the Altmer's arrogant manner. Keeping himself in check, Argis wordlessly offered the elf his half of the food and asked, "You said we were going to rout some greedy Forsworn today. What's the plan?"

Picking over his meal and appearing distracted, the wizard replied, "We're going to leave soon – it's almost dawn, isn't it? – and then ride to their camp and crush them."

Argis nearly choked on the leek he was swallowing when he heard the "plan." He nearly snarled but reigned himself in and asked, "That's it? That's the entire plan?"

Shooting him another disdainful glance, Ard replied, "Yes. It's worked countless times before, and I don't see why it shouldn't work now."

The housecarl inclined his head without a word, not trusting his voice to remain level. This fool elf was going to get them both killed through his arrogance. In the back of his mind, a tiny, panicked voice was hissing that it will happen all over again. The loss of his thane's life would irrevocably damage Argis' honour and position in Markarth and probably force him to leave the Reach entirely. For the first time in a long time he felt like breaking down. Why? Why was he given a chance to prove himself only to know that it will fail in the end? He could no longer even sell himself as a mercenary out of Markarth as he would be too well known, too shamed, for even the caravan's to take him. He wanted to slam his fist into the smug face of wizard and shout at him that there was more riding on this than his worthless life; that this could be his last chance to be buried in the Hall of the Dead with honour.

Instead, he held these seething emotions in check and ate quietly, his face impassive. The simple meal was finished in silence, with the thoughts of both men remaining unspoken. Ard finished his meal first and rose quietly, placing the dishes in a bucket of water for later. Argis noted the gesture, feeling hopeful for a moment. Since he obviously thought that there would be a later, perhaps he would be more careful.

"Well, we should probably go now," the wizard declared with slight uncertainty. His housecarl nodded and shrugged on his pack and they both set out for the horses.

The city of Markarth was just beginning its routines as the two carefully walked down the winding paths to the bottom of the city. As they left the city, they were treated to the full glory of the rising sun as it spilled its luminescence over the landscape and make the stony land near the city look golden.

After taking a moment to take in the sight, they met up with the stable master. Argis grinned at the sandy haired man, who still ran the stables after all this time. Though his hair was much greyer and his face was lined, he still had the same warm smile that had always sent Argis off with a horse. "The two horses, if you please," Ard said in a jaunty tone. Replying, "Of course, my thane," the man whistled loudly.

A young boy with red hair and blue eyes emerged from the stables moments later, leading two roan geldings. Argis did a double take at the sight of the boy, who reminded him sharply of Calder. Once he surreptitiously examined the lad, he stopped seeing the resemblance, but he felt like he was back at that first battle against the Forsworn for a moment. He felt slightly ashamed not to have even thought of the other boy – man, now – for years. He took a deep breath of the clean morning air to clear his head. This was not a time for sentimental remembrances.

After quickly shifting their supplies into the saddlebags of the horses, they mounted up and began to canter down the winding road. The bandit camp had been discovered to be on the road, so they could make good time and use the road as opposed to having to navigate more hostile terrain.

Argis was thankful for the swift pace and enduring horses. Not only would they make it to the camp soon, but conversation became impossible too. Falling back into his caravan guard's habits, he scanned the terrain around him for potential threats and ambushes, but he saw nothing besides a wolf in the distance. It silently watched them pass, and Argis hoped it was a sign of good luck.

They pulled off the road after an hour and ducked underneath a small overhang. Argis double checked that it was free of any traces of predators who might threaten their horses while they were picketed here. They ate a quick, cold meal and made meaningless small talk before beginning to march northward. The whole march began to feel surreal to Argis, who felt that he was following in the exact same path that had claimed Keldin. His dread grew stronger with each passing step as they drew closer to their destination.

They lay down and crawled forward as they reached the crest of a hill. Peeking over, he saw the collection of crudely made huts and counted out the ten Forsworn. Fools, he thought to himself, didn't they know that the land was crawling with adventurers who would report their location to the guard? He shook his head at their foolishness but was startled by movement next to him.

Ardanthis rose suddenly to his feet, glanced down at the housecarl, hissing in a tight voice, "Charge them, now!" and began to pound down the other side of the hill. Bringing his hands together, he ignited a bolt of flame between his hands and hurled it into the assembled Forsworn. He quickly repeated the gesture twice more, shooting out two more bursts of fire at the knot of warriors. The first two blasts scored direct hits, but the third one was nimbly dodged. Argis scrambled down the hill after his thane, nearly panicking when he saw the Forsworn drawing out bows and taking aim at the wizard.

Six of the remaining enemies ducked for cover as lightning crackled around the clenched fists of the wizard. Two Forsworn stood bravely in the open and took aim at the wizard. Lancing one archer with two bolts, Ard dropped the ground to barely dodge the other arrow. The Forsworn cheered, thinking that they had killed him and they began to surge towards Argis.

Argis felt a rush of relief as he saw the pinched face of the wizard rise up from the tall grass and press his hands together before hurling a bolt of lightning into the last archer. The shocked man's face was locked in an expression of slack jawed surprise as the spell slammed into his chest. He convulsed and collapsed to the hard earth.

"Argis!" bellowed the elf in a voice tinged in panic as the other six foes approached him. Argis spared a glance over to his thane to see a pale complexion and the man drawing his glass dagger. Argis tried to interpose himself between the wizard and the oncoming attackers, but they fanned out to get around him. He knew he had to buy Ardanthis time. The dagger meant that he had tapped out most of his internal reserves of energy and wouldn't be hurling firebolts for a while yet.

A wildly grinning man with an axe charged towards the Altmer, intent on cutting him down before he could regain offensive power. His left hand still flaming with magic, the high elf threw a weak stream of flames into his attacker's face, causing the man to scream and clutch as his ruined face. Taking advantage of his shock, Ard thrust his dagger into the man's gut repeatedly. To Argis' trained eye, the thrusts were more panicked and lucky than skilled. He grunted in disgust at the novice swings.

He couldn't spare any more attention for the wizard as three swordsmen approached him now, trying to flank him. He immediately began sidestepping to the right to avoid becoming surrounded, and he raised his shield in preparation for their attacks. The man closest to him spared him from waiting for long and rushed in towards him, yelling wildly with his sword raised.

The man's powerful overhand chop slammed into Argis' shield and staggered the defender backwards. Snarling, Argis swung his own sword to drive back the Forsworn and prevent him from pressing his advantage. By now, the other swordsmen were swinging out to his sides and would soon become a serious threat.

Argis raised his shield and charged his original attacker, who tried to dodge the wall of flesh and steel hurtling towards him but failed to. Argis grinned as he heard the satisfying crunch of the other man's face as his shield connected with him. With one more step, Argis dug his heels into the stony soil and stopped his momentum. Whirling, he stabbed the disoriented Forsworn. The man's blood covered face registered surprise as Argis' sword neatly slid under his rib cage and into his vitals. Kicking the man off his blade, Argis turned to the other two Forsworn, who now wore expressions of absolute fury.

He grinned and tauntingly called out, "Which one of you sad, slow goatspawn is going to be the next to die to a real Nord?" His long experience fighting these savages had taught him that their pride was their greatest weakness, and his experience did not fail him.

One of the swords men, who had a sword in each hand, spat at him but continued his measure advance. The other man, with only one sword bellowed a fierce cry and charged in with his sword held low. Argis narrowed his eye at the blade, unsure of where it was going. It could either stay low and shred his leg, or move higher and shred his organs. He didn't have long to wait as he Forsworn reached him rapidly and feinted high before swinging low. Seeing through the feint, Argis swung his sword down, stopping the strike. He was already swinging his shield towards the other man as he parried the strike, and it knocked his opponent's head to the side as it connected. Yanking his own sword, which was caught in the spikes of the blade, viciously he disarmed the Forsworn. He grinned in relief that his gambit had succeeded. If the other man had managed to keep his head, it could have been the housecarl whose sword was ripped away. The Forsworn looked dazedly at Argis and glanced at his empty hand in confusion. He never saw the strike that swept a span of steel through his collarbone and into his chest. He collapsed with a wet gurgle.

Argis swore as his blade got stuck in the dead man but glanced up when he heard his thane shout, "Argis!" The wizard's battle had not gone nearly as well as Argis' and the housecarl could see that he was using short bursts of frost magic to harass his two attackers and keep them from overwhelming him. This tactic also prevented him from regenerating enough power to turn them into piles of ash.

His distraction and embedded sword cost Argis as his last opponent capitalized on it. He swung his swords through the air forcing the Nord to abandon his sword and throw himself out of the way. His desperate dodge saved his life, but he did not escape woundless. He felt a hot line of pain run down his arm as the sword raked it. He realized that he had landed near the body of the first man he had killed and snatched up his fallen foe's sword before rising to his feet quickly. The Forsworn, now smiling smugly, swung his left sword quickly and Argis was forced to parry with his new blade. The two blades became entangled with each other and Argis swore and tugged, but the other man was prepared for this and kept his grip. They began tugging on their blades, each trying to disarm the other. The Forsworn began swinging his other sword, forcing Argis to block with his shield and try to free his sword at the same time.

They continued in this stalemate for a short while before, with a horrible wrenching noise, the spikes on Argis' sword gave out and his sword broke free. Both men staggered back from the sudden freedom but recovered quickly and swept towards each other. The other man swung his swords in a scissor attack to try to force Argis onto the defensive. Not willing to let the other man dictate the pace of the attack, he threw himself forward and down into the legs of the Forsworn. The other man grunted in surprise as they both fell to the ground. Quickly straddling his enemy, Argis bashed the hilt of his sword into the Forsworn's face repeatedly before leaning back and slamming the point of the blade through the disoriented man's chest and into the ground.

He got off the blood spurting body and ran to his own sword skyward jutting in the body of the other man. His own wounded arm ached as he planted his foot on the corpse, gripped his sword, and yanked the blade out with a horrible sucking and cracking noise. He turned to his thane, finally able to help him and began to run to him.

Ard crowed in triumph as he blinded a Forsworn with a burst of frost energy and slashed at her throat. He slid his dagger between her arms and into her throat as she clawed at the ice covering her face. She gurgled wetly and collapsed, her hands now clutched at her gushing throat and she quickly stilled.

The wizard's other opponent was not idle though, and he pulled back his sword to thrust it into the robed form in front of him.

Argis saw this threat and tried to calculate a way to stop it as he barrelled forward. He grimaced at the realization that a parry would only drive the fatal blow higher or lower and not stop it. It would have to be his shield then.

He jarred the wizard aside as he interposed himself between his thane and the attacker. The Forsworn's thrust skittered along his hastily put up shield and slid past.

Argis' mouth filled with the taste of blood as the Forsworn's sword slid under his breastplate and into his side. He screamed as the agony hit him and the man brutally jerked his sword out of the housecarl. Argis collapsed the ground, instinctively slapping a hand over the gaping wound in his side and watched numbly as the Forsworn swung his sword at the mage. Ard tried to sidestep and parry, but his dagger was snagged by the Forsworn who ripped the dagger from his hands by throwing his sword wide. The unarmed wizard sucked in a quick breath and roared, "FUS!" and a concussive burst of energy slammed into the Forsworn and staggered him. The wizard's hands burst into flame and he lunged in to clamp them onto the head of the last Forsworn. Argis watched with fading vision as the wizard's hands erupted into flames that left the man's head a blackened skull.

Breathing became very difficult and Argis wasn't sure if he wanted to continue doing it anymore. The pain was fading and being replaced by a soothing numbness and he was sure he would see Sovngarde soon enough. He closed his eyes with a sense of relief, waiting to open them to see the afterlife. A brilliant golden glow flared through his vision and he felt gentle warmth trying to replace the coldness in his side. His fogged mind registered what this meant and he panicked, using the last of his strength he latched a blood soaked hand onto the wizard's wrist. Around a mouthful of blood he gasped out, "Let me die. I want to see Sovngarde."

The high elf looked at him like he was mad and jerking him arm back, he unhitched a small vial from his belt. Argis was relieved when he saw it was blue and not red. The wizard would not deny him an honourable eternity. "I will not let you die. You gave your life for mine and I will give it back," declared the Altmer. Sucking back the contents of the vial, the wizard murmured, "Always keep it in reserve for putting people back together and not blowing them apart." His tone said that he was repeating something said to him often.

The words slowly wound their way through Argis' darkening mind and he realized what it meant. His fear was confirmed by a flare of golden light between the wizard's hands. The numbness was spreading though, and he knew the wizard's efforts wouldn't be enough. He closed his eyes and silently asked his father to forgive him for failing. He hoped he had stood tall in the end.

A burst of healing magicka swept through his prone form, causing him to choke and spit blood and he saw a dawn exploded behind his eyelids. He felt the numbness fade and nearly wept with despair. The wizard's pale face was painted gold by the next wave of mystical healing he had kindled in his hands and this time Argis could feel the Altmer's hands on his side. He saw the mage begin to charge a third burst of magical healing but Argis lunged forward and grabbed the spellcaster's wrist to spoil the spell. The golden light faded away as the containing hands slipped away.

It bitterly struck him then, that if he was strong enough to lunge like that then he would live. He never hated anyone as much as he hated this elf right now.

The high elf looked at him with a widely grinning face and sat back, clearly satisfied with his work. The dark expression that covered Argis' face quickly caused the joy to be replaced with confusion. He asked, "Are you still in pain? I've got enough strength left for one more healing sp-"

The housecarl sobbed and then screamed at the wizard, "You don't understand what you've done, do you! You've taken it from me!"

Frowning and glaring in confusion, the wizard replied, "I took nothing. The healing magic won't leave you weaker. You'll recover completely with-"

"You took Sovngarde from me," snarled the housecarl bitterly. He slumped back, looking away from the high elf.

The wizard looked completely bewildered now and demanded in an exasperated voice, "How did I take your afterlife from you?"

The housecarl didn't even look at his thane but mumbled to himself, "Guaranteed to go there and now it's gone." Argis scrubbed his face and tenderly rose to his feet before saying in a flat voice, "We should return to Markarth, my thane."

The elf grunted and rose to his feet. He darted over to his glass dagger and retrieved it. After inspecting it for damage, he sheathed with a satisfied smile. The housecarl's slumped shoulders and downcast eyes reminded him that this was not an undisputed success.

They marched in silence to the horses which shied away from the blood covered forms approaching them. Argis looked at the setting sun and said in quiet voice, "We should stay here for the night. We won't make it back to the city before dark falls, and I don't want to be caught in the dark without a fire.

With a grateful nod, they both went to gather wood for the fire. Neither of them wanted to be left alone in the darkness in the exhausted condition they were in. Luckily there was a fallen tree nearby which they stripped for branches and whatever would they could find. They walked back to the camp with a heavy silence hanging over them.

The fire was started with a casual wave of the wizard's hand. He looked at the dejected housecarl and mentally pondered the situation. He wanted the Nord as his ally and frankly didn't like seeing someone who would have given their life for his looking so sad. He forced himself to be cheerful and mentioned, "Think of the feast they have prepared for us when we return! We'll eat-" but he was cut off by Argis.

The housecarl flicked his gaze to the wizard whose attempt to be cheerful was painfully obvious, and then returned to staring into the fire and said, "There won't be a feast. They wanted both of us to die."

Snorting slightly, the Altmer replied, "Of course I know that. Did you think I couldn't tell the jarl hated having a 'Thalmor puppet' as a thane? I figured they'd be more willing to reward a son of their own city."

Argis barked out a bitter laugh at the naïveté of the elf. The wizard looked at him curiously, seemingly honestly confused. Incredulously, Argis demanded, "You really don't know the history of your illustrious housecarl?" Ard appeared unfazed by the venomous emphasis put on "illustrious" and wordlessly shook his head at the Nord.

Sighing in disgust, Argis continued, "You aren't my first thane." He closed his eyes against the penetrating gaze of the elf and continued speaking in a soft voice, "He was slain by a hagraven's fireball before I could do anything." He traced his fingers down the scarred side of his face and fell silent for a moment and seemed to struggle with something internally before he resumed speaking, "After that, I've lived a life of disgrace. That's why they assigned you to me – they hoped that I would fail you like I failed Keldin. I think they expected I would kill myself long ago." He smiled wryly at his last words and opened his eyes.

"So that's why you wanted to die back then? An honourable death in combat saving the life of your thane would have wiped all of that out and left you free to go to Sovngarde," said Ard softly.

Argis nodded and returned to staring into the fire. The high elf mused for a moment before casually saying, "Well too bad. I'm not going to let an experienced and loyal housecarl die when I can stop it. I do not believe in honour in the same way that Nords do. I'm sure there's a way you can live it down; death can't be the only option. Don't you have anything else besides honour to live for?" The Nord nearly laughed at the way the wizard unwittingly echoed Rha'sharj.

The housecarl hesitated for a moment before looking the elf square in the eye and murmured, "What were the gods thinking when they made the dragonborn into an Altmer wizard who doesn't even believe in our ways?"

The wizard sighed and replied, "You aren't the first to ask that. I've even wondered myself, but it appears to be my fate. The Voice is a power given to me, and I will master it like I've sought to master the arcane." He waved as if to waft the whole conversation away from himself, "I'll take first watch. Try to get some sleep, Argis."

The man nodded silently and kicked off his boots before laying down on his bedroll in his armour. He quietly realized that it had been a long time since someone had called him Argis and not housecarl or guard. He liked it.

The first half of the night passed uneventfully as the wizard sat in the darkness watching the wilderness. He quietly shook Argis awake and settled in for his own rest. The second half of the night saw a bear meandering in the distance, but nothing that would require any action. Argis spent the night thinking about his problems. Maybe the elf was right. Maybe he could serve faithfully and have honour at the end of his life. He sighed and looked up at the dancing aurora in the sky before glancing back at his sleeping companion.

He tried to imagine what the Altmer had gone through to make him to leave everything and flee for an entirely different country. He mechanically scanned the wilds in front of their camp and slowly fed the fire while he realized the smallness of his own scope of vision. He had only ever seen the western part of Skyrim, and he was basing his entire life on just a fraction of the world. He gnawed his lower lip and thought of the other exotic locations he could go to if he was cast out of Markarth. He glanced back at the peacefully sleeping face of the wizard and gave a small smile. If this elf could rise up to a position of prominence in a foreign land, then he could rise up in a different city in his own homeland. He spent the rest of his watch trying to imagine different lives in different places.

The rising sun seemed to reflect his hope as he knelt down to gently wake his thane.


	8. Chapter 8

AN: Sorry for the delayed update, but it's something more substantial this time around.

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The sun's light was just beginning to pour over the Reach by the time the two men had eaten and mounted their horses. They turned towards Markarth and put the sun at their backs as their horse's hooves pounded the earth as they rode triumphantly back to the city. Upon arriving back at the stables, they dismounted and hastily unloaded the tired horses before handing them off to the sandy-haired groom. "It's good to see you both back in one piece," said the stable master in a kind voice.

Argis wordlessly nodded his thanks at the groom, understanding the quiet implication. Even the servants understood how out of place their Altmer thane was, and they also saw the jarl's machinations as he tried to get both the thane and housecarl killed.

The housecarl began to veer off towards Vlindrel Hall, but Ardanthis grabbed his arm and said in a voice laced with arrogance, "We're not going to the Hall. We're going to collect our reward from the jarl first and show him that we're still alive. He can't get rid of us that easily."

Argis nodded, slightly worried about the jarl's reaction, but only replied, "Yes, my thane." Clearly, the man had meant for them to die and would start coming up with better ways to dispose of a troublesome thane and housecarl.

They marched up to Understone Keep and the guards stepped aside for the Altmer. The dim entrance of the Keep closed around them as they left daylight behind, but the wizard didn't slow his pace. He continued to march boldly forward, blatantly ignoring the sneering Thalmor agents and the surreptitiously glancing castle servants alike. The Jarl was slouched on his throne and speaking to his own housecarl when he caught sight of the approaching pair and straightened in his seat. Igmund gripped the arms of the throne tightly but kept his face and voice neutral as he flatly declared, "You're alive."

Ardanthis knelt briefly and replied, "Of course we are. The Forsworn were no match for the combined skill of your two loyal servants. Now about that reward you promised..." He trailed off and looked pointedly at the jarl, whose face had turned red.

The man on the throne ripped a small sack off of his belt and threw it at the aloof face of the wizard, who caught it easily. Ardanthis bowed once more and thanked the man in the same arrogant tone he had used before and walked away. Argis followed him at the appropriate distance as they left the Keep.

As sunlight washed over them Argis released the huge grin he had held in while in the shadows of Understone Keep. The Altmer caught sight of his companion's grin and laughingly added, "That man hated seeing us alive and I'm surprised he didn't burst something internally due to anger. Hold a moment, Argis." They stepped to the side of the path and the high elf pulled out a small coarse cloth purse with drawstrings and poured half of the money into it before passing it to the Nord.

Argis was surprised by his thane's actions and hesitantly took the bag and awkwardly muttered, "Thank you." He hadn't been paid for an official service in a long time, and never half of the reward. Housecarls didn't have to be paid, but it was considered poor of the thane to give them nothing.

Ard clapped him on the shoulder and added, "You saved my life and killed your share of the Forsworn to boot. You earned your gold." He turned away and resumed walking to Vlindrel Hall.

They arrived at the Hall to find a courier standing at the front door. The man exclaimed with exasperation, "There you are! I've been looking all over this city for you for two days. Here're your messages – hmph, looks like you've got important interests." He handed over two sealed letters and ran off to finish other jobs.

The elf walked into the hall, looking down and frowning at the unopened letters before placing them on the table and continuing to his room to clean up. Argis stirred up a small fire in the kitchen to begin to heat the cold stone walls of their home. In the light of the new fire, he caught sight of the seals on the letters. One was from Windhelm and the other was from Solitude, each a respective capitol in the civil war that wracked much of Skyrim.

Argis heard the dull bang of his thane closing the door and quickly went to his own room to change out of his filthy armour. Argis closed the door behind himself and began to disrobe. Using a small mirror, he trimmed his beard and shaved off the rest of the stubble that was rising up on it. He washed his face, hands, and hair in the basin of water that he always kept in his room.

As he stripped off his armour, his fingers brushed the area where the Forsworn's sword had slid into his side. While Argis marvelled at how it wasn't even scarred, what he remembered most was the feeling of his thane's fingers gently on his side.

He shook his head, somewhat dismayed with himself and wondered if he was truly developing feelings for an elf. This couldn't be - he was a Nord and he was honour bound to oppose the elves, who had been his enemy since time immemorial. He knew he should hate this elf who had usurped his position from another Nord, but every time he tried to hate him all he could remember was the genuine concern on his thane's face as he knelt over Argis' bleeding form. He absentmindedly ran a damp rag over the rest of his body as he tried to put his thoughts in order.

He stepped out of his room a short while later to see the elf sitting at the table reading the two letters with a blank parchment, ink, and quill next to him. He looked up at the Nord and smiled softly, and threw him a small pouch that clinked as Argis caught it. He said, "Argis, I need you to arrange transport to Solitude for tomorrow. I need to get some things in order and we won't leave until midday. Once you've arranged our transportation, you're free until then." The housecarl nodded and stepped outside to begin his task immediately.

He was momentarily blinded by the bright daylight, but his eyes quickly adjusted and he headed off to the stables. He looked at Ard's coin pouch in his hands and frowned. This wasn't official business so he couldn't have a horse loaned to him and they didn't have enough gold to outright buy two horses. He mulled over any other options before deciding that the fastest way would be to hire a wagon. The two horses would be able to pull them along quickly and they should be able to make it to Solitude within a day if the team was good.

He arrived at the stables and quickly saw an idle wagon which he hailed and approached. The man in the wagon smiled at his potential customer and asked, "Where can I take you?"

"Nowhere today," replied Argis. He continued quickly when he saw the man's face fall, "Tomorrow, though, I will need passage for two to Solitude. Can you meet us here at midday?"

The wagon driver looked hesitant for a moment but nodded and brightened. He said in a somewhat apologetic voice, "That's quite a distance – do you have the coin? Half when we leave here and the other half when we arrive there. Understood?" Argis hefted the purse and nodded and the two men shook over the deal.

Argis walked back up to the city, wondering what to do with himself as the sun began to set. He could always return to the Hall, but he wanted space to think. He'd be with is thane for the next long while, so he might as well enjoy himself now before they left the comforts of the city for a foreign Hold. He didn't want to admit, even to himself, that being near the Altmer left him an emotional mess of conflicting feelings and so he justified going to a small inn to drink until his heart figured out what it wanted to do.

He returned to a small inn favoured by adventurers. No one there would recognize him as anything but a caravan guard. He took out his half of the reward and ordered a bottle of mead and began to brood over his feelings. Argis wasn't sure if drinking helped him settle his thoughts or if it just complicated things more, and he frankly didn't care. His night began to get a little blurry a few meads later as his thoughts gradually lost coherence.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Argis woke up late the next morning in a bed he didn't recognize. He opened gummy eyes and quietly took stock of where he was. It looked like he was in a bed in the inn he had been drinking in. Speaking of drinking, his head was pounding and his ass hurt. He wondered how he ended up here and he turned his head to see the sleeping form of some handsome brown haired Imperial. He frowned to himself as he stiffly tried to get out of bed quietly. He glanced at the sleeping man still in the torn up bed and winced when he thought of his returned position. He was a housecarl again, and he couldn't afford these indiscretions like he could when he just guarded caravans. He gathered his clothes and left the room. He was very glad he decided not to bring his armour with him.

He hurried out of the inn and into the late morning sun as he rushed to Vlindrel Hall. He swore quietly at how late the morning was. Damn the elf for messing up his head to the point that he forgot his usual routine of preparation. He rushed up to the Hall and eased the door open quietly and slipped in. His stealth was useless as his thane was already successfully cooking a breakfast. Argis' stomach rumbled loudly as he smelled the baking potatoes, giving him away. The elf turned to look at him and said in a cold voice, "Welcome back, housecarl. It's good you decided to return since you didn't tell me anything about our travel arrangements before you disappeared into the night."

The word "housecarl" cut him and seemed to convey more disappointment than it should have. Argis sighed and held up his hands in a conciliating gesture and said, "My apologies, my thane. The mead got the better of my good judgement. We have a wagon ready to meet us at the stables at noon and convey us to Solitude."

Ard's voice softened and he pulled out a small bottle and tossed it to Argis with the words, "Drink this, Argis. Your head can't be feeling good after whatever you did last night if you're just returning now."

The housecarl gratefully caught the small vial and drank it quickly. The use of his name seemed to tell him that everything was alright, but he was careful not to elaborate on what actually went on last night. Not just because he could only remember flashes of it, but it felt like he had committed some betrayal. "I'll pack quickly, my thane," he said looking away.

The wizard gently kicked two packs next to him, then chuckled and said, "Already done. Get your armour and check if there's anything I missed." He hesitated before saying in a soft voice, "I have a name you know. I'm not just a thane."

Argis felt pinned by the words and he looked away before looked back to the elf and hoarsely saying, "Yes, my – Ardanthis." He mentally twitched at the words, "my Ardanthis" as he swiftly left for his room. He wasn't thinking of the Altmer as his, was he? By the Divines, he didn't even know if the elf thought of him in the same way. That line of thought dragged him back to when he had met Firjald. Hadn't that started with uncertainty too? He gritted his teeth as he remembered how that had ended; he could still clearly remember the feel of Firjald's boot slamming into his prone form and the bitter hatred that his voice had carried.

These thoughts crowded his mind as he rapidly dressed in his armour and buckled on his sword. Ard's potion had helped clear his hangover and he tried to focus on the coming day as he quickly slipped on his pack, grabbed some bread and fruit, and met his thane outside of the Hall. Locking the door behind him, the wizard smiled and they wordless marched down the hill to the stables.

Argis led the way once they arrived at the bustling gates and wended his way to the waiting wagon. He haggled with the wagon master for a brief while before counting out a handful of coins and agreeing to pay the rest upon arrival. The two men hopped up onto the back of the wagon and began the long ride to Solitude. They placed their packs away from the edge of the cart and settled in for the long ride.

Argis ask the question that had been bothering him for a long time, "So, why are we headed to Solitude?"

The Altmer let out a deep sigh and replied, "The two letters I received when we returned were from Windhelm and Solitude. Both of them detailed the validity of their claim to me and asked for my support, promising riches of course. They want the Dragonborn on their side to help them accrue more support."

Argis' heart sunk and he asked hesitatingly, "We're heading to Solitude to join the Imperial forces and support Elisif's claim then?" Ardanthis nodded quietly appraising his housecarl's reaction.

His curiosity got the better of him and he asked Argis, "Why does this make you so unhappy?"

Argis couldn't answer right away. Too many words wanted to spill out of his mouth. He hated Ulfric for dragging him away from his family, but loved him for making that same choice for him. He never would have been strong enough to leave and would have spent his life farming and would have never seen the wider Reach. A little voice also added that he would never have met his high elf thane too. It was easy for him to detest the way the old High King had been murdered, but he liked the idea of a Skyrim free of Thalmor.

The housecarl finally responded with, "It's a long story. Ulfric and I have a history together. I fought with him in the war to expel the Forsworn from Markarth twenty years ago and he rewarded me with my first position. He allowed me to get where I am today. Even with everything that's happened, I don't regret it." He reflexively rubbed the scarred half of his face.

The Altmer blew out a sigh after hearing Argis' explanation and muttered, "Ulfric would use me as a tool and discard me later. He can't differentiate between the Thalmor and the Altmer as a people. I would never be one of the 'true sons of Skyrim' that he loves so much. Besides, if the humans want to have any hope of preventing the Aldmeri Dominion from taking over, they have to stand together. Without at least the threat of support from Skyrim, Cyrodil would probably seem like a riper and riper target. Not that Skyrim itself would stand much of a better chance."

Argis gnawed his lower lip as a worried expression crossed his face. He spoke softly, "I just don't like getting caught up in this political battle. If it goes against us then we will be hunted as traitors."

Adanthis, laughing bitterly, said, "If Ulfric wins, it won't matter where I fought. He's still going to hunt me down because any Altmer could be a Thalmor. Why chance it that I'm not? You, Argis, can disappear back into the crowd. Head somewhere remote until it all blows over and begin guarding caravan's again. No one will question you because you are a full blooded Nord. There is no way I can make them accept _this_," he added, touching his own features.

The wizard drew his cowl up and tilted his head down, completely hiding his face from the world and effectively ending the conversation. Hours rolled by as each man was lost in thought and reflected on what was coming. The silence left Argis feeling like he had somehow disappointed his thane and, as the silence stretched on and on, he felt the need to end it.

The words he wanted to say were elusive and jumbled together in his head. The wind blew his hair into his eyes, and he casually tucked it back, still lost in thought. He knew the words he wanted to say, but he couldn't. Every time he opened his mouth to say them, it was like they were clogged up behind memories of Firjald's love and betrayal. A little part of him reminded him of the last time he had loved and the words dissipated, leaving him with emptiness where the feelings had filled. He wanted to break the silence with, "I think I love you, but I don't think I should. If Ulfric hunted you, I wouldn't leave you to go hide." He mentally snarled at himself in disgust. How could he find the courage to charge an armed group of Forsworn, but not speak to his own thane? The wind threw his hair around his face and he allowed himself a brief smile in that moment of disguise. Changing his life was a lot scarier than the threat of the end.

Argis finally broke the silence when he casually added, "You know, you need to improve your dagger work."

The Altmer looked up with surprise and a flash of disdain before breaking into a laugh. "I was going to say I don't use it, but I suppose you're right. It's been my fall back for a long time and I really should do something about that," replied the elf, still chuckling.

The Nord looked over the elf appraisingly and added in a very serious voice, "You may want to try wearing something other than robes – they don't really stop swords, you know."

Ard pursed his lips in an effort to hide a smile and replied, "Your armour didn't help you much, either. I had to put you back together."

Argis instinctively ran a hand over his side where the sword had gone in and the elf's fingers had touched, and he smiled lopsidedly at the jab. "Regardless," began the Nord, "I can give you some instruction on how to fight a bit more deftly with it. Maybe you'll even end up with a real sword."

They cheerfully discussed weapons, materials, armour, and fighting styles as the carriage's two horses rapidly pounded along the road to Solitude. The driver reassured them that they would arrive just after dark, but he was mistaken and they arrived far after night had fallen. The last slivers of the setting sun had disappeared long ago as the walls of the great city pulled into view. The stables were well lit with torches but Argis was dismayed as they pulled into the pool of warm, yellow light. He had liked the lack of interruptions and the chance to just talk to Ardanthis without having the pressures of being a thane and housecarl.

They left the carriage behind after they paid the driver, who began to ensure the care of his horses, and entered the city. They were both exhausted from the long ride and approached the only inn in the city, the Winking Skeever.

They entered into a busy and raucous room of drinking Nords, with the odd Breton and Imperial mixed in. There were even a few Bosmer and Dunmer in the crowd, but the beast races were conspicuously absent, and Ard's presence was largely ignored. The mage approached the dark haired and dark eyed innkeeper with Argis at his side politely asking for, "Two rooms, please, and next to each other if you can help it."

The innkeeper frowned and replied in an oily voice, "We've only got one room left. You'll have to share it – or find accommodations elsewhere."

The man's voice grated on Argis, who took an immediate dislike to this Imperial. The Nord was secretly pleased at the prospect of sharing a room with his thane, but he made sure not to show it. The elf and the Imperial haggled over price and services, ultimately adding a few more coins for a cot to be brought in. The Altmer's purse made an appearance, emptied some of its burden, and then disappeared again. The Imperial's smile was too wide as he took the septims from them and handed them a key.

They headed up the stairs and unlocked their room to discover that the cot was already in place by the wall opposite the bed. Argis looked uncomfortably around the room, and felt very odd for sharing an inn room with another man who he would not become "involved" with. It felt like a break in the pattern he was used to, which left him uncertain how to fill that hole. "Do you want the bed, or the cot? I'm fine with either," chimed his thane's voice.

The Nord quickly replied, "I'll take the cot, my thane." He glanced to the bed, which was only marginally better than the cot.

The elf nodded and put his pack down near the bed and blew out a sigh of annoyance, muttering, "I haven't lost my name, you know."

As Argis stripped his bulky armour off he nearly blushed, feeling very exposed. This was the first time he had been near his thane without armour or two dwemer-crafted doors between them. He heard the elf sigh happily and declare, "A washbasin! This is a much better quality inn than the one in Whiterun." He then picked up the cloth, soaked it in water, and washed his face and hands. He paused and looked at the Nord appraisingly, "My apologies. Did you want to use it too?"

The Nord took the hint, nodded, and headed towards the basin. He hadn't changed his clothes in quite some time and he was willing to admit he probably smelled a little too ripe.

"Tomorrow, we'll see Elisif," said the Altmer. He continued despite the surprised look on his thane's face, "I need you to wash completely so we're both presentable come time to meet with her. There's a clean set of clothes in your pack when you're ready for them. I'm going to get us something to eat from whatever they have left over from their dinner." Turning quickly, he left the room.

Argis took advantage of the small amount of privacy granted to him and rapidly stripped the rest of his clothes off. Grabbing the small, damp cloth he vigorously scrubbed his body, and tried to get as much of the dirt off as he could. He missed a real bath, but this would do in a pinch. He left the now-grey water in the basin to stand near the fire as he rummaged through his pack. The heat of the cheerful fire helped to quickly dry him, and he quickly pulled on a pair of breeches he found tucked away for him.

He had just secured the laces when he heard a soft knock at the door a moment before the elf returned. The high elf's gaze met Argis' before sweeping away from the muscular Nord, but Argis couldn't help but wonder if the elf's eyes had lingered a little longer than normal. He quickly finished dressing to avoid any complications.

Ard walked over to the small table and set down the tray covered with food, beckoning the Nord over. They wordlessly sat down and enjoyed the inn's surprisingly good food.

After finishing the meal, the Nord quietly said, "How much do you want me to pay for the accommodations?" He knew that, in many cases, the housecarl was supposed to cover all expenses of this nature out of his own pocket.

The elf waved dismissively and said in a lazy voice, "I'm not making you pay for my rooming. This would have almost been the same cost if I were alone so there's no point. The greedy Imperial tried to gouge me, but I pointed out that likely no one else was going to come in. Once I told him we were willing to go to the stables and pay a septim for a pile of hay, he gave in."

The housecarl simply nodded, feeling slightly ill at ease over this. It didn't fit his sense of honour but he wasn't going to protest it, especially since he lacked coin from his recent outings.

They retired for bed shortly afterwards, and the elf stripped the sheets off his bed and passed them to his housecarl. He explained, "I'm going to sleep in my robe anyway, so I'll be sleeping with my 'blanket' wrapped around me. You need them more for that cot."

Argis gratefully accepted the offered blankets as they retired their respective beds. The housecarl quietly buffed and polished his armour to clear it of dirt, grime, and filth. He was determined to have his gear presentation ready for Elisif tomorrow and he would not look shoddy next to his thane. He double checked the edge of his blade and smiled in satisfaction that it was still sharp and unworn. He looked up at his thane and saw that he was already asleep, the soft firelight highlighting his strong jaw and prominent cheekbones. Argis took this rare opportunity to just look and not have to look busy. He went to his own rest, clean and confident in how tomorrow would play out.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The morning sun was just breaking over the roofs of the city as the two men from Markarth emerged from the inn. A quick breakfast and a last minute shave for Argis was all the remaining preparation they needed before leaving for the Blue Palace. They made their way through the streets of the city and quietly marvelled at its bustling nature and the presence of Imperial soldiers.

They made an impressive sight as they approached the Palace. Argis's scarred and tattooed face, gleaming armour, and burly frame made him appear to be the consummate warrior, while the black robed, willowy wizard who walked slightly in front of him looked like he could have stepped right out of a bard's tale. Together the two of them made an intimidating pair and they made their way quickly through the crowd to the Palace.

They approached the guard, whose suspicion was obvious until the Altmer pulled out the queen's letter and explained he was here, "on royal request." The guard checked the letter before handing it back and nodding. The two men entered into the throne room and the two guards tipped their heads at the newcomers before leading them up the stairs to the actual throne.

The small court was in session and a man was pleading with the jarl to help him with Wolfskull cave and that there was some sort of monster there. She caught sight of them half way through the man's speech and it was obvious to everyone but the supplicant that she was trying to hurry him along to get to the dragonborn. The dragonborn and his housecarl stood to the side, patiently waiting for the man to finish his plea and for the jarl to promise an extra patrol. The man smiled gratefully and left, but the jarl's face didn't betray her relief at having gotten rid of the man. A bearded man declared, "You may approach the throne."

The two men stepped forward and bowed deeply to woman seated before them. Her glittering circlet, impeccable dress, and graceful features lent her an imperious demeanour which perfectly suited her position. Both the thane and his housecarl bowed deeply before her and she accepted the gesture and spoke with a regal tone, "Welcome dragonborn. I trust your presence here means that you accept my request?"

"Yes, jarl. I will support you against Ulfric Stormcloak and his band," responded the Altmer with as much dignity as he could muster.

She rewarded him with a cool, calculating smile and added, "Thank you for your show of support to the legitimate queen. I'm glad you were able to see through the usurper's ruse and did not trust him. Please, report to General Tullius up in the citadel. He will be best able to direct your efforts."

With another bow to the throne the two men departed and breathed a mutual sigh of relief as they left the confines of the Blue Palace and went into the bright light of the outdoors. They began to walk slowly to the citadel, side by side now, so they could converse.

"That was short," began Argis.

Nodding in agreement, the elf replied, "It was mostly for a formal and political show. The part that really matters – how we perform in the face of danger – has yet to come. We are a gamble for her, especially if we fail. How will it look for the dragonborn to be killed? It would discredit me and damage her reputation while making the Stormcloaks look prestigious."

The housecarl grunted and added in a low voice, "They won't kill you though. Not while I'm around."

With a warm smile for Argis, the Altmer added, "I know, Argis. There are some days when I feel like you're the one solid thing not affected by the politics and war."

The Nord's breath caught in his throat slightly at the high elf's words but he kept his face schooled into neutrality. He returned the smile, not trusting his voice and fearing it would betray his hope.

The rest of the walk to the citadel was done in silence as they were jostled around the noisy crowd of the city. But they finally broke free of the crowd as they ascended a ramp up to the citadel. There was little pedestrian traffic to the citadel except for two men carrying a box of swords. They stood to the side as the sword-bearers passed the elf and Nord rapidly as they bustled past. Moving into the courtyard they observed several soldiers practicing their sword techniques. They approached an Imperial guard who nodded at them and said, "A messenger has already informed us of your approach. The general is within and waiting for you." He gestured to the door next to him and Argis and Ardanthis filed through.

A grizzled Imperial and a stout Nord woman were speaking over a map peppered with red and blue flags but they cut themselves off when the two men of the Reach approached. "Ah, the dragonborn! Good to see you're on our side," announced the Imperial as he reached out and gripped Argis' forearm in a warrior's handshake.

Argis warmly returned the shake but immediately said, "I'm not the dragonborn - my thane is." He did an admirable job of keeping the smile off his face as he gestured towards Ardanthis.

The general's face flickered into a scowl for a moment before he extended his hand to the faintly smiling wizard, and saying, "My apologies. Your housecarl fits everything I would imagined the dragonborn should be."

The wizard shook the Imperial's hand and smiled with genuine warmth as he replied, "You wouldn't be the first to be surprised by me in that way general. But more importantly, let's get down to business. Where do you need us?"

Beckoning them over to the map, the older man stood next to the Nord woman and looked down at the flag scattered map. He declared after a moment, "You arrived at an excellent time. We're going to launch multiple attacks on the Stormcloak's forts which they appropriated when the places fell into disuse." He looked up at the two men before him, "And you two are going to ensure the fall of one of the most critical forts. Legate Rikke will explain the rest to you." He turned and left, followed by two of the guards while the other two looked on impassively.

The Nord woman regarded each of them with a level of mistrust and scepticism, as if she'd seen too many other people who had died being touted as powerful and tide turning. She appeared to brush off her misgivings as she began to speak them in a voice full of authority, "This fort here," she punctuated the sentence by jabbing her finger into the map, "is Fort Amol. It's been one of the toughest forts to empty out, but you will move in with a unit to take it. Understood?" She smiled predatorily when both men nodded. "Good," she continued, "Your squad moves out in four days. Be ready for them then. Dismissed!"

The Altmer and Nord returned to their inn after walking down from the citadel, grateful for having booked the room for days in advance. As they sat eating salmon in a rich sauce, a delicacy of the region, Ardanthis asked, "We're prepared far enough in advance that the four days an unnecessary. Do you want to try to take some contract work in the meanwhile? We could earn some coin before heading out to on our more formal mission."

Argis considered carefully around a mouthful of salmon before shaking his head slowly. The high elf looked at him with confusion and the housecarl elaborated, "Think about it – this is the perfect opportunity for you to get some experience with a blade. You've got the equipment and multiple sparring partners set up right here."

"But-" began the elf before he stopped and sat back in his chair. With a sigh he continued, "Fine. But I'm not sparring with any of the other soldiers. It wouldn't do for every soldier in Solitude to be able to brag they beat the dragonborn in single combat."

Chuckling, Argis replied, "Very well, we begin tomorrow!"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

AN: I never understood why other authors wanted reviews so badly when I was reading there. Now? Now I understand. I'm slowly turning into something like Cookie Monster, except for reviews, sweet, delicious, and addictive reviews. Good or bad, I want to know what people think of it.


	9. Chapter 9

AN: I can see how last chapter felt a little rushed. As I've been writing this fic, you've all seen my writing improve (hopefully!) but I've also realized some of my own major weaknesses. Namely that I absolutely suck at writing travel scenes and characters I haven't thought out well enough. As you've seen, I get flustered when I have long tracts of space to fill, and it doesn't help that I'm not completely sure of travel times. After I posted the chapter it occurred to me that I could just take the wagon from Markarth to Solitude and check the in-game time. As you saw with Elisif, and even earlier chapters, I have a hard time putting words in the mouths of characters I haven't found a voice for yet. But if anyone asks, I'll tell them I was "maintaining narrative focus on the interpersonal relationship between the protagonist and his interest." Sounds a lot better that way, doesn't it? But I've rambled long enough – on with the story!

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The inn's morning crowd was much thinner in number than its night patrons, which thankfully made it easy to get something to eat.

Argis awoke to a thud and clatter as he opened his eyes slowly. How early was it? He mentally panicked, thinking he had somehow overslept, but hadn't drunk a drop last night. His eye first flickered over to the window which showed no light outside and then to the table from which the thump had emerged.

He pushed himself up as he caught sight of the tray heaped with food a resigned looking thane next to it. "What time is it?" asked Argis blearily, and mentally noting how quietly the elf could move when he wanted to.

The elf kicked his cot gently, "Time to rise. If we're going to make me a swordsman, then we probably should get a start on that. We're going to need all the time we can get."

The Nord nodded and rose, staggering over to his own wash basin – it had been a good idea to get two in their room – and splashed his face with the cold water. The icy water helped shock him awake and he padded on bare feet to the table, looking at the meal that they were to share. A large loaf of bread was split cleanly in half with two bowls of stew sitting on the sides. There were two apples resting on each side of the tray. "Sit down and eat. We're going to have a long day today," stated the Altmer while he tore the warm center out of his bread and began to sop up stew broth with it.

Argis nodded and sat down, digging into his own meal with gusto. His mind and body rapidly began to wake up as he wolfed down the meal. The predawn light was tinting the sky pink as the last crunching bites of apple filled the room.

As they readied themselves to leave, Argis nearly smirked at the robed Altmer as they readied to leave. He called out, "You really might want to bring a shirt and breeches. We're going to put you in real armour today. Oh, bring your real dagger with you." A sour face was all he received from the wizard, but he noted that the mage packed a suitable shirt and breeches.

Even a city as large as Solitude is sleepy in the early hours of the morning, and the streets were almost bare of people as the two men wound their way back to the citadel. They arrived at the gates to be greeted by the tired faces and slouching forms of two guards who looked surprised at seeing the two men back so quickly. Argis spoke jovially to them and asked, "Where can we find a training room – preferably a private one. The dragonborn wishes to spar." He winked playfully an added, "Don't worry, I won't let him burn anything down."

Ardanthis remained silent, knowing that the housecarl was better able to speak to the other warriors without seeming arrogant or condescending.

Both of the guards scrambled to straighten up, and the older one gestured sharply to the younger. The younger guard stammered out, "Of-of course! Right this w-way." He immediately darted into the castle and led them through the winding halls to a small gallery with large windows. The windows opened to the west, giving them a brilliant view of the mountains as the sun began to paint its light on them. The room itself was gradually lightening as the day wore on and it would be absolutely blinding when the sun began setting.

Gesturing to the back of the room, the young guard said, "A-all the training supplies you could need are there. If you n-need anything, sirs, do not h-h-hesitate to ask." He quickly scurried out of the room, leaving the two alone with the training equipment.

Argis nodded to his thane and casually, "Why don't you get yourself a training dagger?" as he helped himself to a blunted sword and shield. The swords were so rounded that they little better than paddles, but they allowed for most attacks to be non-lethal.

The mage walked over the rack of training daggers and looked them over quickly before grabbing one at random from the rack and looked curiously to Argis who had stopped searching through the various swords and was looking with amusement at his thane. "What is it?" asked the wizard with a sigh.

The warrior called out, not leaving the weapon racks, "Heft your training dagger and then your glass dagger. They probably won't feel the same. Try to find ones that are similar so you can get the most out of this. If you get used to a lighter or heavier dagger, your real one will throw off your performance." He returned to hefting swords and giving them test swings.

The wizard grumbled under his breath but Argis caught the words "mage" and "dragonborn" and smiled to himself. The wizard tested several daggers and ultimately decided on a different one and experimentally hefted the glass and practice daggers. He nodded to himself, satisfied with his choice and looked to Argis who had finally picked a sword and taken a position opposite the wizard who nervously twisted his dagger in his hand.

The warrior raised his shield and clanked his way slowly towards the wizard from a defensive posture. The Altmer stepped back before a look of resolution crossed his features and he carefully approached the impassive faced Nord with his dagger held low before him. The Nord made a few feints forcing the wizard to dodge and hold a defensive position before the mage snarled in annoyance and swung his dagger at the Nord's extended wrist. His attack was intercepted by the shield, which lashed out and knocked the thrust aside. Flowing behind the shield strike was the practice blade which slammed into the wizard's midsection blasting the air out of his lungs.

Staggering back and clutching at his gut, the dragonborn wheezed angrily and glared at his housecarl.

A look of concern flashed across Argis' face, "I'm sorry, my tha- Ardanthis. I wanted to demonstrate the weakness inherent in using only a dagger against a thinking opponent. You not only lose reach against any other weapon, but you have to combat a shield as well."

Standing up straight the wizard nodded, and said in a voice that was filled with determination and anger, "Then let's find me a sword. I'm not going to take another sword to the gut." He tossed his dagger to the Nord.

The burly man quickly reached out and plucked a sword from the rack, having anticipated the wizard's mercurial shift due to pride. He replaced the dagger in the rack and handed the new sword to the wizard who gave it a few practice swings before nodding to his housecarl.

The blonde warrior began his previous cautious approach and the wizard smirked. Their blades clanged against each other, and when Argis attempted to strike the Altmer's blade with his shield, it was pulled away. Suddenly, a massive burst of light blinded Argis who instinctively jerked his shield up to try to block it. He suddenly realized what was happening and tried to move his shield down, but he was too slow and he grunted as Ard's blade smacked into his stomach.

Coughing heavily he sputtered out, "This exercise is meant to teach you to fight without use of magic!"

Breathing heavily, with a triumphant smile on his face, the wizard replied, "Then fight without your shield. Magic is part of how I fight."

"Then you will die when you run out of fire to throw," the Nord said, his calm demeanour and voice having returned. He continued, "You rely too much on it, though. You need to be able to fight without it so you can have a chance to recover it, if nothing else." He gestured the robes the Altmer wore, "And those aren't going to stop anything from punching through to your vitals. I _strongly_ suggest you find something sterner."

"Fine. Since we're at it, we might as well cover me in hides," sighed the wizard. He appeared aggravated by his housecarl's words but he was still cooperative, though with gritted teeth.

Hiding a relieved smile, the Nord calmly walked over to a set of padded leather armour that was neatly laid out a table and quickly inspected it before handing it to his thane. Sighing at the Nord's armful of leather, the elf quickly pulled off his robe and fussed with his cotton shirt and breeches. Quickly taking the armour, Ardanthis hastily strapped on the armour and Argis quietly sighed after surveying the wizard' attempt to don the leather gear. This was like training a novice warrior, except novice warriors usually want to learn and don't have a wizard's ego.

Speaking calmly he spoke of the value of a solid piece of armour and adjusted the wizard's armour to the point where the straps didn't pinch him and it sat snugly over his vitals. Standing back, the warrior surveyed his work and was satisfied with the end result. "Light armour is not meant to stop a direct sword thrust," began the Nord, "It's better for-"

"Then what good is it?" cut in the wizard sharply.

If the man before him were just a recruit, Argis probably would have smacked him up the backside of his head for his disrespect, but having trained other people for a long time Argis was an experienced tutor with the patience to match. He had taught younger guards while doing caravan work, and even before that he had been tasked with teaching other soldiers while he was a housecarl for Keldin. Admittedly, his thane was testing his patience with the constant bitterness and passive-aggressive learning. Restraining his reflexive anger, Argis calmly replied, "It's better meant for deflecting and cushioning blows and stopping weaker ones - it isn't steel plate. Because of this, you're better off when you're light on your feet so you can move around to maximize the effect of your armour."

Their training continued on through the day, with a short break for a quick meal brought in by a servant. Argis cycled through various forms of weapon training, hoping to find something that might spark the interest of his thane. The dagger, sword, axe, and mace were all treated to equal disdain and the lightest two handed sword was swung once before being discarded.

Argis decided the best way to handle training was to simply stop asking for his thane's input and trust his own experience. He ignored maces and axes for being too heavy and unwieldy for the slimmer elf, and endeavoured to impart the finesse of the blade.

The thud of practice swords against flesh and armour echoed throughout the chamber as the training proceeded, and the vast majority of the hits were made against the elf.

Rich, golden light flooded the chamber as the setting sun poured its last glories in through the large, and long since opened, windows. Rushing forward with a fierce shout, the elf swung his sword toward Argis' hand, trying to disarm the warrior, but his attack was blocked by the ever-present shield. He whipped his blade back, holding it defensively in front of him with both hands, ready for the counter attack. He didn't wait long, as Argis darted forward, swinging his sword out in an arc at the elf's free arm. Stepping forward into the swing, Ardanthis swung his own sword up, smashing it into Argis' hand.

An audible crack could be heard and Argis dropped his sword with a hiss through gritted teeth. He jerked his hand back behind his shield and rapidly back stepped with his shield raised. The Altmer looked down at the Nord's sword with a self-satisfied expression for a moment before a look of horror crossed his face.

He dropped his sword and quickly walked over to his housecarl, a slight limp showing where a telling blow had landed. "Show me your hand," he said with the authoritative voice of a healer.

"No, I'll be fine. I'll get a priest to mend-" grunted the housecarl in response.

"Argis, show me what I did!"

Reluctantly, the pale-with-pain Nord dropped his shield and revealed his already swelling hand. The shattered fingers, which had been clenched around the hilt of the sword, were purple and one was hanging oddly. "By the divines..." muttered the wizard, wincing at what his handiwork had accomplished. He seemed at once fascinated and repulsed by the damage he caused. Gently, he took the ruined sword hand of the Nord, who was breathing heavily but maintaining his composure. "It's so odd. I'm- I'm not used to seeing this kind of damage up close. I've killed men from afar, but seeing it like this is so...so different. So visceral."

Ardanthis' attention was snapped back to the present by a barely-smothered grunt from the warrior who was looking at his ruined hand with horror. His face expressed dread and panic as he looked at his ruined sword hand, wondering how he would be able to earn a living with only one hand.

Chanting quickly, Ardanthis' hands ignited with golden light which soaked into the Nord's hand. The pain immediately faded before the arcane rush of healing energy and Argis only felt a slight twinge as his bones popped back into place and immediately mended. The energy flowed from his hand, up his arm, and diffused throughout his whole body. Closing his eyes and sighing deeply, Argis revelled in the feeling of his forming bruises disappearing and his tired muscles unknotting. The restorative flow tapered off and he opened his eyes, closely examining his hand and testing the fingers. He nodded contentedly, smiling happily at his healed hand.

A relieved smile crossed the features of the wizard before he turned his own healing energies to himself. The golden light swirled around him and he confidently walked on his previously injured leg. "Let's call it for today," the wizard said softly. Argis nodded simply, exhausted with the training and the strain of the breaking and healing of his hand.

The last sunlight was slipping out of the sky as they cleaned up the training room, restoring it to its original state, and walked out of the room. Weaving through the castle, and after getting lost only once, they emerged out into the courtyard and the fresh air.

The wended their way through the evening streets which were slowly emptying of the busy people who populated it during the day. Slipping past a braying street vendor, they entered the Winking Skeever ahead of the evening crowd, but the barroom was already filling up with tired patrons looking to drown the day's sorrows in mead.

Slapping some coins on the bar, the wizard ordered a quick meal for the both of them and went up to their room, Argis in tow.

Crossing the threshold, Ardanthis sat down on the bed and looked up at his housecarl, who was slowly removing his heavy steel armour with exhaustion evident in every movement. "Argis?" called out the Altmer, noticing how the Nord repeatedly checked his hand. The tired man looked to his thane curiously. Ardanthis continued before he could speak, "Thank you, for everything today, and...and I'm sorry for what I did."

Heaving a sigh but giving a tired smile the Nord shrugged and replied, "This is the risk of physical combat and I accept it. I'm very glad that you were able to heal the damage, though!" He muttered softly, "That was a good strike though. Good adaptation to my tactics."

Hesitatingly, the wizard continued, "If... if you are willing, could we resume training tomorrow?"

The mix of vulnerability, hope, and caution in the elf's voice made the blonde look up in mild surprise. His thane was usually so confident and headstrong, that it was surprising to hear his voice without its usual accompaniment of confidence or disdain. Realizing the dragonborn was still looking at him for an answer, the housecarl quickly replied, "Of course. I'm glad you're showing an interest." Finally showing an interest, he mentally added.

The relief in the room was almost palpable after Argis said those words. He had the strange feeling that he had made everything better when he agreed to continue the tutoring. He supposed that the Altmer felt some sort of guilt over his petulance and passive-aggressive cooperation, making Argis' forgiveness all the more important. The Nord mentally sighed as he sat down to check over his armour and was quietly relieved that he hadn't been ordered to continue his role as instructor. It was within a thane's rights to demand all forms of aid from his housecarl, and it was the housecarl's duty to oblige. The Nord quietly wondered what Ard would have done if he had refused. He doubted the man would have ordered it – he probably didn't even know he could – but he was glad he didn't try it.

The elf departed from the room to get their meal and Argis took the opportunity to clean the worst of the sweat and filth off of himself and change into clean clothes.

Returning with the food, Argis left to empty and refill his wash basin, giving the dragonborn the privacy necessary to clean himself. There was a well just outside of the inn, but Argis walked slowly as a courtesy to the other man and ensured that he gave him enough time to get cleaned up as well. Argis quietly entered the room, clean water in hand, and the two sat quietly and ate. The cheerful crackle of the fire filled the room as their mutual exhaustion sapped the energy from even the smallest attempted conversations.

Retiring to bed quickly, they slept well in preparation for the next day.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Argis was unsurprised by his thane's wake-up call the next early morning and he quietly dressed and ate as they walked quickly to the training room.

The housecarl began to teach his thane about the versatility of dual wielding and specifically focused on form and footwork. Dual wielding made parrying or blocking attacks extremely difficult so being light on your feet and able dodge was a critical skill in this form of attack. Argis nodded in approval as he watched the lithe elf step quickly, even in his practice armour. He eschewed the dagger as having too short of a reach, and settled on a second sword. Being a wizard, Ard was already was adept at managing two spells at once so he quickly latched onto the tactics and techniques associated with using two swords. Usually, coordinating the two weapons so they worked together instead of against each other was the most difficult part of this particular style.

Realistically, the two mentalities weren't that different. It was about ensuring that the opponent never had a real opening for fear of the other weapon, or that the opponent never had a moment without pressure. While his footwork still looked sloppy to the Nord, and the blade work was worse, Argis was glad that the elf would be able to at least hold his own against the average opponent.

Quietly enduring the strikes of the High Elf, the housecarl maintained his trainer's composure through the rest of the day. He mentally sighed and realized that they would need to find a real trainer for swordsmanship. Argis was skilled with one blade and shield, and didn't have a mastery of the balance and motions required for dual wielding. He said as much as they plunked down to eat.

Frowning sharply, the elf replied, "I'm sure I could have no better tutor."

Smiling at the elf's faith, Argis shook his head and added, "You see our blade work as the same. If I know how to work a sword, then I should be able to handle a sword adeptly regardless of the situation right? But these are very different style of fighting, and there's a reason I wear steel plate and you wear leather. Each form is suited to its own style of fighting. I'm supposed to take hits on my shield, and you're supposed to avoid them entirely."

Waving a hand dismissively, Ard added, "I _can't_ have another trainer. I'm supposed to be the impressive and indestructible dragonborn and I don't want to have that image compromised. You'll have to do."

Argis looked over at the wizard and smiled slightly, suspecting it was more a matter of personal pride that overall image but he said nothing.

They rose and commenced sparring again and the clang of practice swords filled the room until dusk. The arrival of night heralded the end of their daylong session, and Argis was happy with the progress made by the wizard. He had, at the very least, a grasp of the basic techniques and motions required to fight with one sword or two. It was a major success for a student who had previously been very resistant.

Ensuring the training room was immaculate as they left, they arrived back at their inn room a short while later. The confines of the inn room were becoming a second sort of home to them and its closeness seemed to help them speak more easily with one another. The heavy doors of Vlindrel Hall seemed to be barricades more than simple doors to Argis' memory, and he was incredibly glad that they were away from the doors and cold stone of Markarth.

Settling down into the small room, the wizard quietly stated, "We should probably spend tomorrow preparing for the march on the fort."

Argis nodded in a very professional manner, but his heart sunk slightly at the prospect of not spending the time with his thane. They hashed out supply listings, times, and even possible enemy tactics over a small chicken pot pie and finally had their respective duties settled. They gradually drifted off to sleep, Ardanthis dropping off first. Argis gradually slid into the realm of dreams while looking at the man who he loved, and who gave him feelings he could no longer deny.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

AN: Thank you for the constructive reviews and compliments so far. I'm actually quite surprised that people on the internet are being this nice, and I'm trying to remember to take your suggestions into account. As always, further suggestions, criticisms, and comments are appreciated. Please, do not be afraid to hurt my feelings, as I'd rather hear it so I can improve my writing.


	10. Chapter 10

Argis awoke early and was up before this thane could return with their breakfast. It felt strange to have the elf getting the meal as it was traditionally a housecarl's task. Most other thanes wouldn't have bothered to negotiate with the innkeeper over price and would expect their housecarl to either haggle for a better rate or pay for it themselves. Perhaps the fact that the elf wasn't steeped in Nord culture and was used to dealing with inns had an effect on the way he approached accommodations.

The elf returned with an extremely displeased look on his face and thunked the tray down on their small table. "Gruel," he spat, "They're serving gruel today. Divines only know why they would serve this."

Argis sat down and stirred the thick, lumpy grain mixture and actually smiled.

"You can't be serious," uttered the elf with an incredulous expression. Continuing, he uttered, "You actually like this stuff?"

Shrugging, the Nord replied, "I grew up on a farm and we ate this often. It reminds me of home." He mentally twitched at the use of the word "home" as he hadn't been back there in over a decade and he honestly didn't know if his family was still alive or not. His mind wandered for a moment as he tried to imagine what the farm must be like now or if it even had survived the passage of time. He had a young sister when he left to join the Stormcloaks, and he felt a pang of guilt for his absence in her life.

"What's wrong?" asked the Altmer with a look of curiosity. Argis' mind snapped back to the present when he realized that his face must have been plainly showing the emotional gamut he had run as he thought of his old life.

Forcing a smile over his features as he softly shook his head, Argis replied, "Nothing. Nothing at all." He internally sighed at his own lie. While it wasn't his place as a housecarl to burden his thane with his problems, he had no one else to truly speak to. A mercenary's life left little room for true friendships. He stirred the food in front of him and wished he could just be honest, just to see what happened.

Still eyeing the Nord with an expression that indicated he wasn't convinced at all, Ardanthis mentioned, "I'm going to go out to find something more appealing to eat. I might as well gather the supplies while I'm at it. I'd like you to ensure our place in the Fort Amol squad. I want to make sure we're with the right group if we're going to be heading that far east, and that close to Windhelm." He hesitated a moment before continuing in a voice that was too casual, "After that, you're dismissed until the next morning. So enjoy the city's pleasures for the last night before the march." He left shortly after that with a quick nod to the seated housecarl.

Argis slowly ate the porridge and relished the soft taste of honey and cinnamon that the cook had mixed in. Despite Ardanthis' opinion of it, it was quite good. He sat very still for a short while after eating his meal and took advantage of the silence of his shared room.

What _had_ become of his family? Had he _really_ let his own life so badly dominate his thoughts that he had none to spare for his own blood? He massaged the bridge of nose as thoughts like these rolled through his head and he could feel a headache building being his eyes. He pushed himself away from the table angrily as he tried to clear his head of worries. There were immediate problems to focus on that needed resolution. His self-pity could wait until he could afford it.

He walked out into the bright morning and headed straight for the keep, marching up the ramp to the imposing structure. Heading into the cool, shadowy interior he came upon Legate Rikke looking down at the map and a small stack of parchments at her elbow. She looked up suddenly at his entrance but recognized him quickly. Putting her quill down and moving her inkpot to the side, she rose, nodded at the man before her, and asked, "Greetings, Housecarl. What do you need?"

Argis was unfazed by the very brusque tone and manner of speaking that the woman employed, understanding it for the mark of respect it was. Rikke was speaking to him as fellow soldier, and not a pompous courtier who needed to be flattered and spoken to coyly. Inclining his head, Argis replied, "I hope everything is well with you, Legate. I need to know where the dragonborn is supposed to meet his squad before departing for Fort Amol."

Nodding, the woman gestured with her left hand towards the city gates, "All the squads will meet outside of the city walls. There will be too much confusion on all accounts if we try to muster here with the limited space afforded by the courtyard. In particular though, your group will be the one on the far right, but you can always verify that with the captain in charge of the unit."

"Thank you, Legate..." began Argis before hesitating.

"Is there something else?" asked the woman.

Smiling wryly, the housecarl inquired, "Actually, yes. As a housecarl, my primary concern is my thane's safety. I need to know – is Fort Amol well garrisoned?"

Giving the blonde man a wolfish smile she barked out a laugh and, "We wouldn't waste the dragonborn's presence on an easy fort. To answer your question directly, yes, Amol is expected to be the hardest one to break, especially considering its proximity to Windhelm. This makes it a key structure to take and we want to ensure our success by including both of you. Your unit is larger than the others as well."

Giving Rikke a grim nod Argis exchanged farewells with her and left. He mentally worried over the resistance that they would face at the fort, but he knew there was no way to avoid the danger. They had committed themselves to this course of action and there was no way out now.

He didn't leave the keep quite yet but made his way through the castle, on the directions of a maid, to the quartermaster. The man wore a surly expression as he muttered to himself and scribbled on the parchment in front of him. Quietly wondering if every quartermaster was this angry, he smoothed his features into the calm and confident face that a housecarl was expected to wear. "Pardon me, but I require two steel blades for the dragonborn," he stated with all the professionalism he could muster.

The man eyed him suspiciously and replied in a nasally voice, "And why doesn't the high and mighty dragonborn come here himself? Why does he need them in the first place? Can't he just shout the enemy to pieces?"

Argis maintain an impassive expression as he explained, "The dragonborn is a capable swordsman as well as wizard. He requires the swords to ensure the success of the mission. Additionally, the Thu'um is not a weapon that discriminates between friend and foe and we do not want any friendly fire. The dragonborn will need something else for when close combat is joined."

Grumbling quietly to himself, the quartermaster wrote something down and said in a voice that suggested he was doing Argis a great favour, "I'll have them included with your unit then – Amol, right? Of course I'm right." Argis nodded his thanks and turned away from the miserable man to find his way out of the keep.

As he exited the keep, he clapped a guard on the shoulder and asked with a genial voice, "Say, besides the Winking Skeever, where's a good place to get a drink in the evening?"

"The market has a wine merchant who would be able to quench your thirst. If you're not looking for what she sells, there's always a dingy little tavern near the western side of the gates. It's of much lower quality than the Skeever, though, so I don't recommend it... sir," replied the guard. Argis could hear the hesitation before the soldier said "sir" being unsure of the housecarl's position in the army. Thanking the guard he walked into the courtyard where several soldiers were drilling techniques and sparring.

Argis didn't want to return to the city quite yet and wanted to _do_ something. Waiting for the march was always the worst part for him and he was determined to find something productive to do. He also rather liked the invisibly afforded to him in the keep as it seemed that most regarded him as just another soldier. He had missed this camaraderie from his time guarding caravans.

Hailing the drillmaster he offered to spar with the trainees and do what he could to teach them. Looking the newcomer over, the man gave a curt nod and faint smile before directing the trainees to learn how to handle their shields from Argis. He knew who Argis was and what the housecarl's proficiencies were, but only the latter mattered when it came to teaching the soldiers.

Argis lost track of time as he sparred with the soldiers. His own easy-going manner and experience training soldiers allowed him to be quickly accepted into the small squad of soldiers. They weren't experienced by any stretch of the imagination, but they weren't too proud to learn. When the other men invited him to join them for mess in the barracks it reminded the housecarl of the time. Regretfully declining, he returned the training sword and shield as he wandered out to the tavern that he was recommended earlier.

He found it soon enough and it was as dirty as he expected. Argis was unsurprised by its state but didn't mind. He wasn't here for company or atmosphere. He sat down at a table in the corner and a weary looking woman walked over to him. "What do you want?" she asked in a tone that said she had been repeating that question too often.

Giving the woman a courteous smile, Argis simply ordered a plate or bowl of whatever they had made for the dinner crowd and a mug of mead. The waitress nodded and quickly left. Argis looked over the other patrons as a matter of habit and realized how many sad, wretched people went here to drink their sorrows away. He immediately tried to curb his disdain for the other men in the tavern as he was also here to drink, hidden away from the condemning eyes of the more upper class Skeever patrons.

The waitress brought back a bowl of greasy stew, half a loaf of stale bread, and a mug of mead that was surprising good. "Pay up now, love. We don't do tabs for those who aren't regulars," she said warily, watching for him to react badly. Argis simply shrugged and dropped the necessary septims into her outstretched hand and began to eat.

The food itself was terrible but he wasn't really here for the food either. On his third mug of mead – the waitress had been very attentive to his needs – he began to regret ever coming there. He knew he had nothing to feel guilty about as his thane had dismissed him until tomorrow, but he looked around at where he had ended up. He suddenly looked down at the nearly empty mug before him with suspicion, as though it were a traitor who he had thought was his friend. He tried to remember the time back in Markarth where he had similarly drunk his worries away and the aftermath of that. He looked around sharply at the miserable looking figures seated around the room and rose, leaving the rest of the cost of his mead on the table.

"Leaving already?" quickly asked the waitress, who was probably hoping he would keep paying out for drinks.

Argis didn't bother to respond but hurried out into the cold night air and away from the dregs of Solitude. He wouldn't end up like them, he swore to himself.

He arrived back at the Winking Skeever and slipped through the busy main floor to the stairs up to his shared room. He eased the unlocked door open and met the gaze of a surprised looking Altmer wizard.

"I didn't expect you back so soon, Argis. I gave you leave to go wherever you wanted for the night," said the Altmer cautiously.

Giving a genuine smile for the first time that evening, he replied, "I know, but I'm where I want to be."

The warmth of his smile was mirrored by the warmth of his thane's expression and they settled into quiet preparations for tomorrow. Argis had never felt so peaceful as he ran a whetstone along his blade's edge. The gentle rustle of things moving in and out of backpacks and the scrape of the whetstone formed an accompaniment to the easy silence filling the room.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

They rose early and Argis performed his last minute checks before they left the inn room that had been their home. The innkeeper seemed genuinely dismayed that they were leaving, but it was probably because they were a steady source of income for him.

Leaving the greasy Imperial behind, they marched over to the gates of the city. The streets were absolutely packed with soldiers streaming in and out of the city and the well wishers and camp followers who trailed behind the army. Through the tactical use of jostling and their elbows, they made surprisingly good time and made it out of the choked gate with only minimal disruption. The moment they left the city they stepped out of the flow of people in and out of the gates. The assembling squads at the bottom of the hill were still messy clumps but they were rapidly forming up into proper ranks. The two men hurried over to the far right cluster of soldiers, which was slightly larger than that the others, and greeted the Imperial in charge.

The stern looking man had a large scar running down the right side of his face, and the rest of his expression was set in a stern scowl as he observed the odd pair approaching him. "You must be the dragon born and his housecarl," said the man peering curiously at the two men.

Ardanthis nodded and added, "We've been assigned to help you take For Amol. We will help you in any way we can." By now, it was clear that the rest of the unit was surreptitiously watching the newcomers with evident suspicion. Whispered words, mostly "wizard" and "Altmer," slipped between the soldiers as they looked at the dragonborn.

The captain kept his composure better than his soldiers and coughed slightly before stating, "Understood. Fall in with the rest of the unit then as we'll be leaving soon. There'll be no horses except two to carry our supplies, so be prepared for a long walk." The wizard merely nodded in response, maintaining a cool and aloof appearance. Argis wanted to sigh heavily because he wasn't sure if his thane's cold composure was helping or harming the way he was perceived by the soldiers around him.

Argis mingled with the soldiers as Ardanthis discussed the march and tactics with the captain. The soldiers' initial hesitation quickly gave way when they realized that Argis wasn't anything other than a Nord with a sword. He was quickly welcomed and he felt almost pitied by them, as if they were welcoming him back from the Altmer's presence.

The march began with little fanfare and the smaller units dispersed to attack their respective targets. The hope for the overall campaign was that attacking multiple positions would create too much pressure on the Stormcloaks and prevent them from defending any of the positions successfully.

The march to the southeast was going to be a long one, but their unit made it without complaint. The dragonborn and Argis were never put on guard duty or directly ordered to directly do something, and the soldiers treated the elf as if he was someone to be politely spoken to without them actually liking or respecting him. Argis, by contrast, was warmly accepted by them and he frequently was welcomed by the other soldiers. Ardanthis weathered their dislike with his usual hauteur and silence, but Argis knew it was wearing on his thane.

As the days dragged on, the housecarl gradually grew more and more worried that the distance between the soldiers and the dragonborn would compromise their combat efficiency. He also was starting to feel like he was acting as a liaison between the two sides. The camaraderie that flowed so easily between the men seemed to freeze and turn into grudging politeness when it was directed to the High Elf. Argis' hopes for a gradual welcoming of his thane into the circles of the soldiers slowly withered as the marched progressed, and they were over half way to their assigned target without any sort of acceptance being shown to the elf.

They sat around a small campfire and the elf miserably grumbled, "I haven't done anything to them – why do they hate me? They accepted you as if you were blood kin."

Argis sighed, "Both the Imperials and Nords in the unit have their own reasons to hate High Elves. The Aldmeri Dominion is still viewed as a threat by the majority of both peoples, so I suppose they're just wondering when they'll have to fight you next."

In a soft voice, the dragonborn asked, "Are they ever going to see me as something other than an elf?"

"Probably not," replied Argis sadly.

Nodding bitterly, the elf watched in silence as the fire slowly burned down.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The scouts spotted the Fort and the rest of the unit made sure to keep behind cover as the sun slowly rose over the plains. The captain ordered a rest, but most of the men were too nervous to sit still, and they spoke in low voices with each other.

The fort looked dilapidated and the places where repairs had been made could be clearly seen. The thick stone walls still mostly stood, but the gate was completely gone and a rough barricade had been erected in its place. The crumbling merlons offered little cover from ranged attacks, but the attackers lacked a real number of archers necessary to capitalize on that advantage. Their goal was to get inside the fort before they could turn the gate into a real choke point. Being so close to Windhelm, the men of this fort seemed complacent and only had a few sentries lazily strolling along the wall. Argis hoped that this lack of discipline would turn to their advantage and that they wouldn't get blocked from entering the fort.

A nervous energy filled the camp as the fifty men of the Empire rallied into their formations. They had obsessively checked and maintained their gear over the journey and were eager to prove their prowess. They formed up perfectly in front of their commander who inspected ranks and was explaining tactics and setting up contingencies for his men to follow. Argis and Ard, who were standing off to the side began their own low conversation.

"I'm going to focus on killing anything that wields a bow or, Eight forbid, spells. Please, keep close to me because I don't trust these others not to leave me to die – that's if they don't kill me on their own," muttered the wizard.

Rapping a leather pauldron of the elf's ensemble with a knuckle, the Nord replied, "This will definitely help and I'm glad you wore them. I will stay close to you, though, so you can focus on the archers. If they retain control of the walls and get enough archers up there, then the fort will become a bloodbath as they trap us and pick us off."

The captain waved at the pair who nodded and joined him at the front of the formation. The men began to jog towards the fort at a quick, but not exhausting pace. They didn't get far before one of the sentries called out a warning and the shouts of alarm from the fort could be clearly heard. The attacker broke into a sprint and rushed for the barricades as the archers on the wall knocked arrows and began to take aim.

Ardanthis and Argis were in the front ranks of the charge as they approached the wooden contraptions blocking the doorway. Bringing his hands together, the wizard conjured a bolt of fire which slammed into the center of the barricade with a low boom. The barricade exploded apart under the fiery burst of magicka but a small group of enemy soldiers stood to block the path. Snarling with frustration and bringing his hands together again the elf hurled a large bolt of lightning at the group. The lightning slammed into the lead man and arced to the others, staggering by not killing them. Drawing his swords, the wizard ran a disoriented Nord through and the others in the gateway suffered a similar fate as the invading force swept over them.

Pouring into the courtyard, the attackers engaged in a fierce melee with the assembled Stormcloaks. Arrows from both sides thudded into unprotected flesh and skipped off shields as screams resounded off the stone walls.

The pair from Markarth stepped back to let the other soldiers rush by and rapidly surveyed the situation. The Altmer sheathed his blades and rapidly hurtled three bolts of fire into the busy archers on the wall. One archer tumbled off the wall from the force of the spell, one missed its target, and the last one struck but didn't kill its target. The wizard rushed back into the press of Imperial and Nord troops becoming invisible among the other leather and steel garbed soldiers.

The elf darted over to another spot before hurling a few quick spears of lightning, killing and incapacitating his targets. He drew both of his swords and charged a group of Stormcloaks and Imperials fighting on the steps up to the walls.

Just as he arrived, an Imperial was cut down but Ardanthis exploited the attacker's vulnerability by swinging his blade a vicious arc that severed the hand of the Stormcloak. The man jerked back and screamed as he clutched his blood spurting stump. He didn't even try to dodge Argis' jab under his rib cage and into his organs. Argis was nearly frantic with worry over the reckless assaults his thane was heading but did his best to ensure his safety. He would keep his word and stay near the wizard.

"FUS!" bellowed the dragonborn, staggering the four remaining soldiers in his way. Argis winced, knowing that Ard's use of the Voice had just announced his presence to everyone in the fort and had potentially just made a target out of himself. The housecarl could argue with the results though as the Imperials cut down the last opposition and pushed themselves up the stairs towards the archers on the walls.

Shouts of alarm rang out across the battlements as the bowmen turned their attention to the threat posed by the charging Imperial forces. While this tactic took the pressure off the attackers in the courtyard, the barrage of arrows levelled against those mounting the battlements scythed down the first ranks of Imperials. The second volley, however, was much less effective as those with shields took to the fore and blocked the shot to the best of their ability.

Argis slightly shouldered his thane aside to stand in front of him as the arrows continued to strike into shields and flesh. The archers attempted to stop the wall of steel heading towards them to little success and the first of them fell to the swords of the approaching soldiers.

The thane and his housecarl whirled around when a man behind them screamed and pitched forward, an arrow sticking out of his back. A lone archer had huddled behind a pile of stone and was now firing desperately into the undefended backs of the attackers.

One of the Nords who sided with the Imperial forces clutched is arm as an arrow sprouted from it. Argis rushed forward with a sudden burst of speed and his shield raised in an attempt to engage the woman before she could do more damage. The archer aimed down and shot again, and Argis wasn't fast enough to dodge the arrow that slid into his thigh. He tumbled down with an anguished cry, but he tried to protect himself by getting into a kneeling position with his injured leg sprawled behind him. His steel shield afforded him scant cover and the Stormcloak knew this. She knocked another arrow, drew it back, and aimed for a killing shot.

"Argis!" roared the wizard in a voice resonating with panic as he dropped his swords and slammed his hands together, unleashing a massively bolt of lightning that transfixed the woman. She arched her back as the energy coursed through her before collapsing to the ground, barely breathing and smoking slightly. The elf bent down and snatched up his blades before rushing over to the prone woman. He wasted no time before reversing his grip and slamming the swords into her chest. She convulsed once, coughing blood, before falling still.

The High Elf left his swords standing upright in the woman's cooling corpse as he turned to face his injured housecarl. The Nord whimpered slightly as he looked at his injured leg which was soaked in blood where it had leaked out from around the armor. "Icanfixthis. Icanfixthis," the wizard said rapidly and worriedly, as he knelt by the injured leg. He took a deep calming breath and closed his eyes. Warm, golden light poured from his hands and the arrow slid out of the wound it had made as the healing magic forced it out. It clattered as it landed on the hard stone of the walls and left only a faint scar and a hole in the leg plate where it had punctured.

Rising as quickly as he had knelt, the wizard extended a hand to Argis and helped him up. He retrieved his swords from the death archer and wiped the blood off on her jerkin. The sounds of combat had all but faded as the invaders successfully swept through the remaining defenders. The men on the walls looked down on the courtyard and were appalled with the blood soaked fortress floor. Imperial and Stormcloak corpses were strewn over each other in piles and groans and faint movement emitted from some of the strewn figures.

"By the Eight..." whispered Ardanthis as he quickly made his way down the stairs to lend what healing he could to the dying. It looked like over half of the assault force was dead or injured.

After sealing one man's leg wound, he called out, "Isn't there another healer? I can't do all of this on my own!" A Nord who was helping to collect weapons off the dead wordlessly pointed to a sightlessly staring figure. The dead Imperial's brown robes had turned a dark red from the blood that soaked into them, and an amulet of Arkay hung askew on his chest.

The elf sighed and returned to healing the fallen and pressed golden glowing hands to the worst injured. He coordinated with Argis and a few others to find those who would die without magical healing. He moved between the dying with flagging energy. His expression grew more and more haggard with each Nord and Imperial he helped.

Oddly enough, Argis found the healing process interesting to watch. It was almost like watching time rewind as wounds disappeared, and he watched with sick fascination as the restoration magic pulled the guts back into the abdomen of a fallen man. The wound was almost sealed before the golden light flickered out and left a small gash in the man's gut. "Bandage it," croaked the wizard as he sat back with exhaustion written into every movement he made.

"Hey! There's another one over here. Looks like a lung wound, so hurry!" called out one of the wizard's assistants.

Closing his eyes as a way of finding a reprieve from the carnage around him, the elf replied, "Find him a healing potion then. There's nothing more I can do for now." A numb surprise and silence followed as the Imperials turned to look at him. The charnel house smell was nearly overwhelming and seemed to emphasize the importance of the wizard's healing.

Storming over to him, a soldier said, "More soldiers need your help, elf. Get up and rest on your laurels some other time."

"I can't. I've used everything I've got," said the wizard in a soft, composed voice.

The soldier snarled angrily, "Then they are going to die today. You _need_ to help them."

His emerald eyes snapped open and, flashing with anger, the wizard replied, "What don't you understand about 'I can't?' I am tapped out. I want to help them but I'm not able. I used my two personal healing potions a long time ago and I have nothing left."

The Imperial narrows his eyes in suspicion before hissing out, "You want us to die, don't you, elf?"

"What! No!" sputtered the exhausted wizard in outrage.

With a cold hatred the other man continued, "Yes you do. You used all your magicka to kill Nords so you wouldn't have to save Nords later. I know you elves, and you all want us dead."

A small crowd had gathered around the arguing pair and looked at them with great interest. A few of the bystanders were nodding at the soldier's words and Argis grew nervous at the prospect of trying to defend his thane from all of these others. Ardanthis shook his head sadly, regained his composure, and replied, "If I didn't kill the archers I did, then we would have a lot more wounded here than we already do. Even you know that every healer has his limit and I've hit mine. Hating me for being a High Elf won't accomplish anything or save anyone else. If you notice, I've put just enough energy into each man so they'll live in order to maximize the number of lives saved. If you can save any of them until later tonight, I may be able to save a few more."

The accusing soldier's anger seemed to melt away as he collapsed to his knees next to the elf. Argis started forward before hearing the man say, "Please. Please one more, elf. There's a dying man over there – and he's my brother. Save just one more life. Anything you can give, please!" The pleading voice showed that the man was throwing all of his pride away in order to try to cajole the wizard into saving his brother.

"I'm sorry-" began the elf in a voice heavy with sympathy but the man stood quickly and staggered back.

He drew his sword and screamed, spittle flying from his lips, "You bastard! You murdering bastard! You-" His tirade was cut off by Argis' shield, which slammed into his face. The housecarl had rapidly interposed himself between the sword and his thane and dealt with the threat.

The wizard gained his feet and Argis spoke loudly to the moaning man on the ground who clutched his bleeding nose and mouth, "You know he saved who he could. The gods allotted your brother his fate, and I'm sorry for your loss, but stop looking for a mortal to blame for this. Blame Ulfric if you want since he's the reason we're fighting this war in the first place. Don't blame the man who did everything he could to save everyone he could. He may be dragonborn, but he's still mortal and only capable of so much."

The other men, even the ones who had agreed with the rant from before, looked away and resumed their duties. Argis and Ard walked into the fort's winding halls and rooms, looking for somewhere quiet to spend the night. The halls of the fort were slightly less blood soaked than the outer courtyard, but dim lighting and stench of blood hung heavy in the air, and they quickly left the stench-choked rooms.

By now, most of the men were either preparing bodies for burial or gatherings weapons. The two men from Markarth helped with the hunt for weapons and stayed away from the wounded, for which they had already done everything they could. Ardanthis made sure not to go near them for fear of provoking another outburst from the soldiers, but he frequently glanced at the dying men.

By the time night fell, the barricades had been restored and sentries had been set up along the walls. The captain, looking as tired as the Altmer, handed the wizard a sealed scroll along with the words, "We're going to guard this fort and hold it down, but you need to take this back to Jarl Elisif. She needs to know we succeeded and likely reassign you."

Nodding, the dragonborn and his housecarl retired to the small corner they had staked out for themselves in preparation for the long march back to Solitude on the following morning.

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AN: Updates after this may be a little slower. I'm going to try to gradually rewrite the first few chapters since they _are_ fairly shoddy and not doing the rest of the story justice. As always, reviews, suggestions, and criticism find a welcoming home here.


	11. Chapter 11

AN: I have posted a rewrite for chapter 1 as well at the same time as this chapter. Thank you for your patience, all. I invite you to take a gander at my new first chapter and tell me what you think of it. I would also like to apologize If I spammed everyone out. Being new to the interface, I stupidly missed the "Replace" button.

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Dawn had long since broken over the fort as the dragonborn and his housecarl readied themselves for departure. Before leaving, they closely examined the fort for any further supplies or repairs that it would need. They had already compiled a list of supplies that the fort would need and were to deliver the list back to Solitude, but they were dismayed by how broken down the fort was.

Several of the wounded soldiers survived the night and were able to be completely restored by the golden healing energies of the High Elf. This helped somewhat to ease the tensions remaining from the previous day, but the burials for the dead were a stark reminder that the dragonborn had failed some of the soldiers.

Leaving the unit behind, the two men began the long march to Solitude. They luckily encountered nothing more intimidating on their long journey than a pair of wolves, who were smart enough not to attack the two armed and armoured figures.

The early afternoon sun cheerfully illuminated the walls of city and the bustling crowds went about their business as if a small army of soldiers had not just left the city a short time ago. Slipping through the crowded streets the two men headed for the citadel, well aware of how eager the general would be for word from them and how eager the soldiers would be for supplies to arrive. They regretfully walked past the Winking Skeever and their exhausted bodies urged them to stop and rest. They continued onward, ignoring the needs of their immediate needs in order to fulfill the duties that they had been assigned.

They slipped up the ramp, past the clanging blacksmith, and entered the small chamber wherein Legate Rikke and General Tullius still presided over their map. The legate was the first one to look up as the door opened and her face lit up with a wary smile, "Did you have success?"

Slightly annoyed that the woman had dispensed so quickly with any sort of greeting, the tired Altmer nodded and handed her the message he had been carrying with the words, "It's a request for supplies for the new garrison of Fort Amol. Personally, I would suggest that you send some more archers to reinforce it as well as a mason. That place needs a lot of work to make it truly defensible."

The legate's grin widened and showed her white teeth as she triumphantly took the blue flag out of Fort Amol's location on the map and replaced it with a red one. "You aren't the first group to report back," she began, "but you group was one of the most critical ones due to the fort's proximity to Windhelm. You've done good work, dragonborn, and I think the general would agree that you should be rewarded for it."

She glanced to the general for a moment to ensure he had nothing to add and continued at his nod, "I have here the first part of your reward." She pulled out a large bag of gold, and handed it to the composed mage who murmured a thanks as he hefted the heavy, clinking bag before slipping it into his pack.

She pulled out a pressed and sealed note and handed this to Argis before addressing Ardanthis, "The note is a signed voucher for the Jarl of Markarth to reward you when you can put it in your vault in Vlindrel Hall. You completed a task that was of great risk, and we want the reward to reflect that."

Argis was careful to slip the letter into a pouch on his belt, ensuring its safety. The elf seemed slightly dumbstruck by what had just happened, but he maintained his composure and bowed low to both of the Imperial legionnaires before him and asked in a soft voice, "Where else are we needed next? This war isn't over, not by a long shot, and I want to help see it through."

The general laughed and clapped the Altmer on his shoulder, "We're going to make use of you yet, don't worry. But for now? For now you're dismissed."

The Altmer's face fell into a sharp frown before he smoothed his features and asked in a controlled voice, "Why am I being dismissed? Did I not meet expectations?" The anger in his voice could be heard underneath the composed tones he employed.

His smile tightening, the general added, "It's not always a matter of personal success and failure. We're waiting on news from the other forts so we can better adjust our strategies to compensate for those who failed us. We also want to ensure that you still have a presence within Markarth to prevent the Forsworn from gaining momentum there while we attempt to deal with the problems here."

His smile softened as he continued, "Besides, every soldier needs some time to rest. Enjoy the time that you have to breathe, because your next battle may take that away from you."

Ardanthis opened his mouth as if he were about to say something but closed it and simply nodded. He hesitated a moment before bowing once more, "I will return to Markarth then. Please, call on me when the campaign continues so I can help restore Skyrim."

The general dismissed them with a few last words of good luck and watched the two men leave.

Stepping into the daylight, the wizard beckoned Argis to follow him as they wound their way to the Skeever. Entering the quiet taproom, they approached the barkeep, who immediately recognized them. The greasy Imperial's fawning manner and grating voice expressed joy at seeing the two back again, "Good to see you two back again. Here to rent a room for another week or so? I have just the room ready for you now! The sheets were just cleaned, and for those few extra coins I'll have the cot brought into your rooms again. I can tell you're road weary and simply exhausted – come! Sit down, and enjoy a mead and leg of goat!"

"We're only here until tomorrow morning," said the High Elf in a cool tone.

The innkeeper hesitated for a moment before he resumed his ingratiating monologue, "Oh, not a problem. The Skeever welcomes all visitors, regardless of length of stay. Unfortunately, I won't be able to give you your discount for such a short stay. Most regrettable."

Argis frowned and said, "You didn't give us a discount last time either."

"Nonsense!" laughed the innkeeper, "You think I wouldn't give _such_ good customers a better rate? My good sirs, I thought you would have known that I gave you a better rate without you even having to ask!"

Cutting in, the wizard asked in a tired voice, "Is our old room ready? If so, we will rent that and a dinner as well. Please, bring the cot as well as a second wash basin up." He placed a small stack of coins on the counter and looked to the Imperial, as if daring him to try to cajole more septims out of the elf.

The Imperial's smile stayed on his face, but it was more functional than authentic. "Of course, of course," began the innkeeper as he swept the coins into a pocket and produced a key, "Your old room is empty and ready for you. Here's the key. Please, enjoy your stay."

Turning away with the key, the Altmer quickly made his way to the stairs and was quickly followed by Argis. Their room was little changed from the last time they had stayed, and to Argis it felt like he was being welcomed back home. The close, intimate space that the two shared helped to create a more casual atmosphere. It contrasted strongly with the feel of the Blue Palace and Understone Keep, which were majestic but cold. Argis prized the comfort of the small inn room over the splendour of the jarls.

His thoughts from days before haunted him, though, and he couldn't stop wondering about his family. Overcome with a sudden guilt for his inattentiveness to his family, he couldn't enjoy the privacy afforded by the inn.

Ardanthis heaved a great sigh, causing Argis to look up. "My thane?" hesitantly asked the housecarl.

"What's bothering you?" said the Altmer with a critical gaze.

"Nothing, nothing at all."

"I'm not blind, Argis. Your tread is heavier when worried and you're practically stomping now."

"I..." The Nord hesitated with his words. He wanted to avoid the truth, but realized that he couldn't without appearing deceptive. He internally berated himself for his transparency and opted for the truth.

"I would like to see my family," he stated bluntly and quickly.

"Your family?" The wizard seemed stunned at the declaration but he recovered his manners quickly, "Yes. Of course we'll go see them. Are they near Markarth?"

Flooded with relief, the Nord nodded, "They're on a small farm, Frost Oak Farm. We should pass by them with only a slight variation in route if you are willing."

"When was the last time you saw them?" asked the elf with genuine curiosity.

Flushing with shame, Argis merely said, "A long time ago. Long, long time ago."

Ardanthis frowned in surprise but quickly smoothed his features into a more neutral expression, "Would you like leave to make this visit on your own? I would not want to intrude where I'm not welcome."

"No, I wouldn't want you to travel onward alone in any case."

"Very well, but will they react well to an Altmer showing up on their doorstep? I know how the Thalmor's presence in Markarth can make people edgy."

"I imagine they won't be too upset. After all, we-_they_'re quite remote from the actual city so I doubt that the country folk would have a lot of interaction with the Thalmor."

Leaning back in his chair, Ardanthis simply nodded but skepticism was written on his features. Shrugging, he turned back to unpacking a few necessities from his pack and ensuring that he had all the supplies he needed.

Argis relaxed for a moment as the conversation ended, but his quickly grew anxious again. After all, he really had no idea how his family would react to an Altmer, but he didn't want to say that they may react with hostility. He would never admit it to the wizard, but he didn't want to face his family alone. Having not seen them for two decades, he knew he was a stranger to them.

The silence in the room grew stifling to Argis who excused himself to go fetch dinner for the two of them and sighed deeply as he exited the room into the short hallway. He felt like things were on the edge of slipping out of his control. He had already broken the implicit rules of his position to see his family and he had no idea what to expect. Housecarls were supposed to give up their own lives in order to devote themselves to their thanes, and he was doing the exact opposite of that, was he not? Had he offended his thane by overstepping these bounds? He headed past the bar where he was supposed to get the meal from and headed out into the night.

He breathed in the cool night air as he stood in the darkness of the alley, trying to judge how bad of a mistake he had made. He suddenly sucked in a breath and realized that he had said he was going to get dinner a short while ago and hadn't actually returned with it. He immediately darted inside and hurried the serving maid to put the platter together. He rushed back upstairs to the room and was met with the curious stare of the High Elf.

"If you wanted some time to yourself, you could have just asked, Argis," said the elf calmly.

"I did not want to worry you, Ardanthis."

The elf's appearance remained calm but his words picked up an unexpected amount of force, "And that's the problem, isn't it?"

Confusion overtook Argis' face as he asked, "My thane?"

"You hide so much of yourself from me. And honestly, I have no right to your inner thoughts. I _will not_ become one of those thanes who demand his housecarl's most private thoughts, but I would hope that you could trust me enough to just talk to me. Don't you think I see you standing there holding yourself close and clinging to your duty as if it was the only thing holding you together sometimes? Maybe it is because I'm not a Nord. Maybe if I grew up with the stories, the hope and the dreams of a Nord I would understand better – but I haven't. I only see these things forming walls between me and someone I rely on."

He paused in his diatribe to scrub his face with his hands before continuing, "I am such a stranger in this land. I know nothing of your customs or culture beyond what being a mercenary has taught me. And Argis? I _need_ you to be able to talk to me without this hesitation. I need honesty here, here in this country and here in this moment."

Argis was dumbstruck with the outpouring of words and numbly set down the tray at the table before sitting down across from the elf. "I'm sorry, my thane-" he began but the elf cut him off.

"Stop calling me 'my thane!' That is exactly what I'm talking about when I say that duty comes between us. Every time you say 'my thane' you address me as a position." His words took on a trace of longing as he continued, "I'm a living, breathing person sitting here and not some cold lord. I'm not an ideal that I can never live up to."

Argis sucked in a breath and closed his eyes, trying to make sense of what was happening right at that moment. He had felt things were strained and unravelling but this was of a magnitude he wasn't prepared to deal with. He knew that his thane wanted honesty, but there were some things that _he_ was unwilling to discuss. His heart dropped as he realized he could not even begin to find the words to articulate his love for the man sitting across from him, which was the foremost thing he wouldn't discuss even if he could find the words. "Don't disappear on me, Argis," softly spoke his thane.

Argis opened his eyes and met the gaze of his thane, "I'm afraid. I haven't seen my family in over two decades, since I left them to participate in the war against the Forsworn, and honestly? I don't even know if the farm still stands. I'm dragging you to a place where my family will not recognize me and will probably hate me for abandoning them. Furthermore, I don't know how they'll react to an elf. We both know that the Thalmor are present in both the city and country side and are a fearsome group. Even if I can get my family to accept me back, I don't know what they'll make of you. Will they think I sold out to the High Elves and hate me for it? I don't know, but I'm coward enough to know that I don't want to face it alone." His last words slipped out bitterly as Argis reached for a chunk of bread.

In a soft voice, the Altmer said, "Argis, I won't accompany you to your family as a thane, but I will as a friend."

Cracking a small smile Argis looked up and nodded gratefully. They ate in silence without other words needing to be said. To the housecarl, the room no longer seemed tense but had regained its previous intimacy.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The following day saw the two men leaving the city of Solitude before the morning crush of people filled the streets. Looking back at the city, Ardanthis said, "I'm going to miss this city, but I'm eager to return home at the same time. I miss the sounds of Markarth's waterfalls."

Argis nodded as he made his way away from the city, soundlessly agreeing with the wizard. He was also homesick for the world that he knew best, but he was also afraid of the closed doors in Vlindrel Hall. Resolving not to let the doors become walls, he kept up his steady pace as they made their way to the farm.

The time spent in the wilds passed quickly as the two men travelled light. Nights were often spent fireless to avoid detection and they frequently huddled in the lee of hills or rocks. To keep each other's spirits up they spent the time teaching the other about the various things they knew best. Argis exchanged knowledge of weapon care for herb lore, and Ardanthis learned cooking tips as he taught the warrior to properly mix a potion to the right consistency.

The wizard's demand for openness seemed to be more than met as Argis described what he remembered of the farm from his childhood. The miles slipped by as the housecarl told of rough planting seasons, natural bounty, the terrifying threat of the wolves in the forest, and the closeness of the home. He always ended his stories with, "But I know that that home is somewhere far in the past, and not still there." Despite this statement, the wizard could hear the wistfulness in the Nord's voice.

The land's dips and rises began to become more pronounced as they entered the Reach but they persevered. Argis felt like his feet knew the way back to the farm, despite the years between now and when he was last there. They crested a small hill and could see a small trail of smoke wandering into the sky, as appropriate for a cooking fire. Argis blew out a breath that he didn't know he was holding. He was relieved that the farmstead was still standing and he hurried to see if it was still his family still lived there. They followed a small path into the trees that still ringed the farmhouse and Argis barely looked where he was going as he walked rapidly towards the small cottage that was peeking through the trees.

The small yard in front of the house had a small boy sitting in it, who was throwing grain and seeds to some chickens which squawked and retreated into their coop as the clanking warrior approached. The young boy's blue eyes widened as he called out, "Mother! Mother there's a strange man here!" He began to back away towards the house in fear. His eyes widened even further and he nearly screamed, "And a yellow elf!"

Argis looked back to see Ardanthis slowly stepping out of the forest with a pained expression on his face.

A woman with clear blue eyes and long brown hair rushed out of the house and grabbed the boy's arm hissing, "Norn, get inside _now_ and stay with your brother." She straightened up as the boy rushed into the house and the door slammed behind him, "What can I do for you, sirs? I swear we know of no Talos worshippers and are devoted to Kynareth."

Argis's heart was nearly broken by the fear in her voice and he stopped moving. He heard a whispered step and knew that the wizard was moving up to stand near him. He cleared his throat and said, "Is this Frost Oak farm?"

The woman suspiciously nodded and said, "It is. I've legally inherited it from my father when he passed and the named remained the same."

Argis closed his eyes for a moment as he received the news that his father had died. He opened his eyes and said softly, "Selta, it's me, Argis."

Confusion covered her features as she asked, "Argis? Who- oh by Kynareth." Understanding dawned on her face and she slowly approached the housecarl. She looked up into his features and gently ran a hand along his tattooed cheek and then the scarred features of his other half, softly muttering, "It really is you, isn't it?"

Her gaze jerked to the Altmer behind him and then she whispered in a pleading voice, "Please tell the Thalmor we're innocent. We haven't done anything wrong. Please!"

Argis gently took her hand and said, "He's not with the Thalmor, and he hates them as much as we do. He's actually a thane of Markarth." Argis decided to omit the fact that Ard was also dragonborn, not wanting to overwhelm his sister.

Her gaze bouncing between the two men, it finally settled on the elf and she gave a grudging bow, "Honour to you."

Sighing slightly at the use of the traditional greeting for thanes, Ardanthis walked forward and gave his own bow, "Call me Ardanthis, or Ard for short, good lady."

She eyed him with only a tinge of disdain and nodded before turning back to Argis, "Come into the house, brother. I assume you have questions."

She slowly opened the door and said in soothing voice, "Norn, it's alright. Neither of them are bad men." The tone and cadence of those few words nearly made Argis' jaw drop with surprise. Selta sounded so like his own mother that it felt for a moment like he had never left home at all.

"What...what happened after I left, Selta?" he asked as they slid into two chairs at the square table in the middle of the room. Ardanthis look up a position by the window. Leaning on the wall next to it, he simply looked out the window as a way of giving the two siblings some sort of privacy. Argis knew, though, that the elf was listening and watching closely.

Norn, the young boy, was standing next to a cradle with a baby sleeping in it and he slowly approached the sitting Argis. Knowing how his scarred features and blind eye must appear to the young lad, Argis smiled at him. "He's your uncle, you know. You should give him a hug," said the boy's mother in gentle reproach as she pushed the hesitant child towards Argis. He boy wrapped his arms around Argis' broad torso as far as they would go and then let go and quickly retreated back to his mother.

She clucked her tongue at the boy and said, "The chickens need to be properly fed now – and don't forget to close the fence behind you!" He warily ran out of the house to do his duty, but looked back often with curiosity.

Selta sighed as she watched the boy leave the house. She turned to the warrior, "Argis, why did you come back? You've been gone for twenty years, why now?"

"Because..." he began hesitatingly, "Because of guilt, honestly. I realized that I didn't know if this place even still stood or if any of my family lived. I guess I finally stopped looking at my own life long enough to wonder about someone else's. But what happened to mother and father?"

Nodding sadly as Argis spoke, the woman replied, "They both worked hard immediately after you left. They never stopped wondering about you, you know. Oh don't wince, Argis. Yes, after the battle father expected you to return from the victory and help with the farm, but then when you didn't they feared you died. They had quietly resigned themselves to your death and it was two years later that father heard about the 'farm boy turned soldier' who had gained the praise of the Jarl of Windhelm. He was ecstatic that you had come so far and believed that you would one day return with glory and riches to work the land after risking your life so often. As the years went on they put me to do more and more work until I was doing everything you once did and every hand was needed on the farm.

After the first decade of your absence father...he made a hard decision. With no word from you, he didn't want to risk the farm going fallow when just our family could no longer work it. So he looked for a husband for me who would work the land with us. I was married and my husband, Balvor, moved in, making life easier for all us through his labour.

I think the happiest day of father's life was when he heard you were appointed as a housecarl to a thane. He spoke constantly of how far you had risen, especially to my husband. I think it made my husband resentful that this perfect son was constantly held over his head when he worked the farm day in and day out. I think... I think he was secretly happy to hear you failed. When your thane died, I think father's heart died with him. He barely worked after that and seemed to slip into despondency, but he prepared to receive you back in shame. That day never came but I think he waited for it until his tired heart just stopped beating. We made the long journey to the Hall of the Dead in Markarth to make sure he was properly buried. We looked for you while we were there, but no one knew where you were."

Argis' eyes were wide with surprise and his mouth opened and closed in shock as if he were going to say something to refute what he just heard. Selta looked at Argis dispassionately, "Did you think we just stopped thinking about you after you left?"

"I-I just didn't think that I had such an...an impact."

"You did," she said simply. She resumed her story with, "Mother seemed to feel displaced after that. She felt like a stranger in our home, especially with my child on the way. She contracted a simple cold, but it seemed to eat away at her until nothing remained. We shut the farm up and made the journey to Markarth again. After that? After that Balvor and I settled into the farm, and while things haven't always been perfect, they are not bad either."

The woman finished her story and looked at Argis with suddenly exhausted eyes. The burly Nord hung his head for a moment before looking back up at his sister. "I'm so sorry, Selta," he whispered with sincerity. He truly was guilty for leaving his sister to bear all of those struggles and essentially forcing her into marriage out of necessity.

Her gaze softening, Selta cupped Argis' face and smiled, "I'm just glad you're alive, but what happened to your- to you?"

Argis grinned at her question and said in a jovial tone, "It's a long story."

Selta's expression mirrored his, "I've got time to hear it. The farm work can always be done later."

Argis told his story from the beginning, how he was trained, the battles he fought as a housecarl, what Keldin had been like, how Keldin had passed, and the rest of his narrative. He carefully avoided mentioning his relationship with Firjald, and exaggerated as little as possible. His story seemed to entrance Selta who laughed and gasped as Argis' tale unfolded. Argis showed her the scars that related to each tale as he was telling and made his body into a canvas of sorts for her to read. With two decades of reunion to be had, the two whiled away the time and had eyes only for each other.

They both seemed to have forgotten the Altmer near the window, and Ardanthis became as still as a statue as he looked outside, but his attention was on the stories being told inside the cottage. He listened as Argis' narrative reached the time when he was assigned to the Altmer thane and listened with great interest to how he was described. The housecarl described the wizard well, touching on Ardanthis' resistance to being trained in blade work and his skill in both destruction and restoration magics. Interestingly, he omitted the fact that Ard was a dragonborn which made the elf wonder at why that particular detail was skipped.

Argis was in mid-sentence when the front door softly creaked open. A tall Nord with jet black hair and blue eyes quietly let himself in, "Selta, Norn told me that two strange men came to the cottage." His eyes flicked between Ardanthis and Argis before he added, "And I see that he told the truth."

Selta smiled reassuringly, "Balvor, this is my brother Argis and a thane of Markarth is here as well. We don't often get such esteemed company."

Balvor eyed Argis coldly, "_This_ is the brother who abandoned you?"

"Balvor!" Selta snapped in anger.

Argis rose slowly and without anger. He looked to his sister, "He has a right to his words, Selta. He has cared for our family farm in my absence and I wanted to thank him for it."

He turned to face Balvor, "If you had any fears about my trying to reclaim this farm, then you can release them now. I never intended to retake the farm or demand it back. It belongs to you and my sister." His gaze softened as Norn peeked in the door, "And your children."

Balvor sighed and nodded, his relief evident. Despite the peaceful resolution, the carefree ease between Selta and Argis was broken as they were painfully aware of the two other men in the room. Selta patted Argis' hand and rose, "I suppose I can't put off the farm work forever, can I?"

Argis smiled and added, "If you ever need anything, do not hesitate to call on me at Vlindrel Hall. If I am not there, word will be sent to me."

Polite words and promises to visit were exchanged as the thane and housecarl left the farm. Argis looked back frequently while the elf was broodingly silent. No conversation passed between them as they were each lost in their own thoughts. They closed the distance between them and the city of stone rapidly and it was late in the afternoon when they arrived back in the city.

"We are _not_ going to see the Jarl today, Argis. Right now, I'm just exhausted and starving for something not out of an inn." A quick stop in the market netted them fresh supplies for the Hall as they had cleared out its larders before leaving, knowing that nothing would survive their absence. The two men made their way to Vlindrel Hall and felt at home amongst the precarious pathways and roaring waterfalls. Markarth was not as populous as Solitude, but its narrow walkways and vertical architecture made it feel as busy as the port city.

The heavy doors of the Hall opened and the dark interior yawned open before them. The pale green light of the eternally burning dwemer torches provided limited light without the fireplaces also cheerfully crackling away. The wizard sighed happily and gestured twice, spinning luminescent balls into the interior and smiled as they held to the walls they touched. Walking into the now-bright home, Argis slipped his pack off as Ard started a cheerful fire with a clipped gesture. Argis went to each of the rooms and quickly got the wash basins. He quickly stepped outside and filled them from a nearby water fall before ducking back inside, carefully balancing them.

Grinning at Argis, the elf muttered, "As comfortable you've taught me to be in these leathers, I miss my robes. Say, could you put something together for us to eat? You know I'll just burn it." His grin became a little sheepish with his last comment.

Argis returned the grin, "I'm going to spend the rest of the night checking over my armour from all the wear it's seen recently. I'll have something put together for us soon."

The elf nodded his thanks and slipped into his room, the magelights he had cast dwindled slowly and released the room back to the softer glow of the hearth fire. Argis went to his own room and rapidly took off the dirty armour and sweaty clothes beneath. He glanced at the closed door regretfully, reminded of the intimate space the two men had shared while in Solitude. His relief at returning home quickly overwhelmed any misgivings he may have had over closed doors. He quickly finished changing and returned to the hearth to finish searing the salmon and grilling the leeks.

His thane was taking an abnormally long time to come out of his room and Argis smirked as he carefully turned the fish. The poor wizard was probably trapped in the straps of his own armor. He had just finished plating the meal when he heard his thane approaching.

The warrior's calloused fingers deftly finished setting the table and the Nord called out, "Get trapped in your own arm-" his words cut off abruptly as he looked up and saw his thane. The Altmer stood before him in comfortable blue robes, but what had arrested Argis' words was the golden, glittering amulet hanging around the elf's neck.

"You- you're wearing an amulet of Mara," he stated dumbly.

Ardanthis nodded and continued hesitatingly at first, but his words quickly spilled out, "I could _feel_ the connection you and your sister shared, and it made me long for a family of my own. My own parents were culled by the Thalmor early on, so I never really knew them. I was lucky to be taken in by my master when I was, and now he's gone too." He sat heavily at the table and stared off into the distance for a moment of reflection, "I'm never going back to the Summerset Isles, and I need to accept that and build something here in this country."

Giving the wizard a brittle smile Argis casually noted, "Oh? The women of Markarth should watch out then."

Looking to the Nord, Ardanthis carefully replied, "Not the women, Argis. Not the women."

Argis numbly nodded, his heart and mind fighting as the former soared with hope and the latter tried to reign it in with practicality.


	12. Chapter 12

Argis kept his composure as the two men ate in shocked silence and retired for the night. The Altmer's announcement had seemed to throw both of them off balance and into their own thoughts. Conversation was functional at best, focussing on the following day and how they would address the Jarl, but they said nothing of Ard's revelation. Argis suspected that the elf was still adjusting to the revelation and Argis himself was too hopeful to eat much.

A silence hung heavily between the two men as Argis retired for the night. He left his room door open a crack to help ventilate it after their long absence from the Hall, and he could hear his thane pacing around his room. Laying in the darkness, Argis gradually fell asleep to the repeated, soft steps of the High Elf.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The cold morning sunlight gleamed down on the stone city and sparkled off the waterfalls that laced the city. The silence that had plagued Vlindrel Hall the night before had passed with the night and the two inhabitants began to settle back into the routine of being home.

"We're going to have to get the gold from Jarl Igmund, you know," said Argis with a mischievous grin.

Laughing, the wizard replied, "He's going to be galled to have to ship that sum to us and especially to an Altmer!"

Argis attempted to regain the comfortable and easy going manner that had existed before, but the Amulet of Mara, which sparkled on the elf's chest, seemed to taunt him. He continued to glance at the elaborate golden disk and desperately wished to act on the opportunity that the item represented, but he hesitated in fear of rejection. Not only would he have to risk the emotional rejection, but he could possibly damage the relationship between him and his thane beyond repair. How could they share a space knowing that that unreciprocated feelings hung in the air around them? Then he would be forced to leave his thane, and the prospect of that terrified him more than any of the flashing swords he had faced. So he held back and stayed silent despite how it broke his heart.

Having finished the simple bread and butter breakfast, Ardanthis declared that they would head to Understone keep and collect the latter half of their reward. He grinned like a fool at the prospect of irking the Jarl and they exited the Hall to accomplish this. Argis felt a similar mischievous joy at getting under the Jarl's skin, but he felt worry more keenly. This would be the first public appearance of his thane in the months since he had left, and now he was looking for a husband. The social stir and scandal created by this revelation didn't worry the Nord so much as the suitors who would come. He didn't want anyone else who might win the elf's heart, even if he didn't have it yet.

The elven wizard was not an instantly recognizable figure in Markarth, but many had come to know his face after he was announced as a thane of the city. Argis mentally sighed as they made their way towards the Keep, wondering if the elf was destined to be a continual source of shock for the city. In his leather armor, Ardanthis was much less likely to be instantly recognized than when he wore his black robes, but any Altmer was bound to gather stares as he made his way through the city.

Markarth was much less likely to have a diverse population than other cities. Windhelm saw a large influx of Dunmer and Argonian immigrants, while Solitude's close connections to the Empire encouraged the Imperials, and their cosmopolitan ideals, to come to the city. Markarth's economy was strongly based on mining and usually the only foreigners to arrive were mercenaries or adventurers looking for opportunity.

The elf's golden skin and hair, along with his sharp features, drew glances and whispers as he passed by the people. Argis knew they also noticed the amulet hanging around the wizard's neck. A surprised female voice exclaimed behind them, "What kind of good Nord girl would actually _marry_ an elf!" The speaker was quickly shushed and the crowded streets hid the woman from discovery.

They made it to the Keep with only a minor stir being caused and arrived at the great doors to Understone keep. The two guards glanced with surprise at the elf but managed to bow their heads with a crisp, "My thane!" Argis watched the younger one look back and forth from the amulet to the elf with great interest. He quickly said, "We desire to see Jarl Igmund, may we pass now?" He was desperate to get past the too interested looking guard before he punched the handsome man's teeth down his throat.

The guard quickly nodded and opened the door, letting the thane and then his housecarl through. Argis glanced back to see the guard looking in at his thane and shot a dirty glance at the guard who quickly closed the door. Argis frowned at himself and his own behaviour. Just a short while ago he would have tried to get that guard's attentions for himself, but now he tried his best to ward the attentions of the other man away from his thane.

They approached the Jarl's throne and Igmund sat slouched on top of it and looked at them with disdain. "Back from playing hero for the Imperials?" he asked with caustic sarcasm. Upon hearing his tone, the other courtiers in attendance seemed to melt away into the shadows of the room.

The thane gave the Jarl a serpent's smile and calmly replied, "Only for now, my Jarl. I hope to return to fighting the rebels when the Empire calls, and I would not say no as they do pay handsomely. I think you should see this." Gesturing, Ard indicated that Argis should hand over the payment order. Handing it over with a quick bow, Argis returned to standing behind his thane.

The Jarl read through the letter, his face gradually turning red as he read his way through the letter. He checked the seal twice before crumpling the paper and dropping it on the ground. It rolled down the steps of the throne's dais before ending up back at the feet of the Altmer wizard. Scooping it up, the elf smoothed it out before refolding it and tucking it into the cuff of his leather gauntlet.

Looking into the Jarl's hate filled eyes, Ardanthis quietly asked, "I trust our payment will arrive soon as per the orders of the General of the Emperor's forces?"

"You will have you payment," spat the Jarl. His wrathful expression suddenly turned into a vicious smile, "The gold will do you little good in netting a wife, though. The women of Markarth will think little of gold coins when they lie so close to gold skin."

Ard simply shrugged, "I don't really care what they women of Markarth want. I'm looking for one of its men."

The courtiers erupted into shocked whispers of a shared sentiment. Love was a quick thing in Skyrim's violent world, and the courtship process was usually short. The events unfolding before them were like a bard's tale come to life.

Igmund's face reddened even further and Ardanthis was certain that he would be called upon as a healer when the Jarl burst a blood vessel. The man on the throne impressed the elf by not dying and curtly dismissed the wizard. His words were barely heard amongst the mutters and whispers that were steadily growing louder in the court room.

Exiting the throne room, they marched quickly out of the Keep. Ard led the way out of the keep and Argis shot another glare at the guard, who sneered in response.

"My thane, may I have a word with you?" respectfully asked the housecarl. Nodding, the wizard walked over to a waterfall and allowed its noise to prevent them from being overheard.

"What are you doing? This is _not_ how Nords behave in Markarth," hissed the warrior.

Sternly eyeing him the wizard shot back, "I'm cutting through all the rumors now. I don't care what Igmund says about Nord women because their opportunistic fathers will marry them off in a bid to get better position and wealth. They may hate me for being elven, but I know that greed will make many of them blind to that. True, many of the lower classes would not even think to consort with me, but the rich always lust for more power. After seeing the Jarl's reaction, they know that I've just been paid a large sum. Besides, I'm sure they expect me to die like so many others in this war. They then get their daughter back but with a fortune. The courtiers would have found it out anyway when I flatly turned their daughters away."

Merely nodding unhappily the warrior sighed and said, "We should probably follow the Jarl's edict and remind the people of who we are." The warrior had this strange notion that if they kept moving then the avaricious nobles would be unable to offer their handsome and equally rich sons and daughters to the elf. What reasonable man would take a poor housecarl with nothing left to offer him over a rich courtier's son? He bitterly reflected on his own scarred countenance, which was also something that none of the courtier's sons had.

The elf looked out over the city for a moment and then said with a gusty sigh, "We could check with the tavern keeper. They always know who needs help from having to listen to men gripe all day."

Heading down the winding roads of Markarth, they entered the inn, which was bustling with all of the people coming into and leaving the city who were looking for a drink. They approached the barkeep who was frantically filling mugs and he quickly asked, "What'll it be, sirs?"

"Just information for now, actually," said the elf as he eyed the full room.

"I don't really have time to chat right now."

"It won't be long. We just need to know if anyone needs help as it's a thane's duty to ensure the safety and prosperity of his Hold."

"Ah, that's all you need? There's a group of farmer's over there who are trying to haggle with some mercenaries for help, and they're the only ones I can really think of at this moment." The barkeep finished filling a third mug and passed it to a patron.

Nodding gratefully, the wizard left a septim on the bar in thanks and walked over to the table of men in rough spun clothes sitting across from some other men and women in armor.

A woman in steel plate said with evident anger, "We cannot lower our prices any further! Don't you know we have to eat despite how poor you might be? I don't care if you can't pay more, I'll find someone else to work for."

The farmer, a burly man who glared at the woman, snarled, "If they keep killing all the livestock there won't be anything for you to eat!"

A man in the farmer's entourage muttered darkly, "They've killed all the stupid cows but this one."

The woman stood up so forcefully that her chair tipped over and she shouted, "Which one of you filthy cowards said that? I'll gut you like the pigs on your farm!"

Ardanthis calmly stepped in and said to the farmers, "As a thane of this land, I would help you – free of charge – if you'll let me." Turning quickly to the mercenary he added, "My lady, you already said that they're too poor for you. Why not let them go now? I'm sure you could find someone with a much fatter purse to work for in this city."

Gritting her teeth once more, she nodded brusquely and walked away, still glaring daggers at the farmers.

Sighing with relief, the wizard asked the spokesman, "What's your concern, sir?"

"It seems like every wolf and bear in the forest attacks whatever isn't safely locked up at night after the sun sets, my lord. We need someone to kill them the next time they come around, which is probably tonight. Some of the men suspect that it's Forsworn magics rallying the animals like this, but most think it's just a bold pack that's eaten many other creatures and made the bears desperate." The hope in the voice of the poor farmer was painfully evident to the Altmer.

"Lead the way to where they will appear. We will resolve this issue this night. Markarth depends too much on the food you produce to let your livelihoods be slaughtered like this."

"Right this way, my lord!" crowed the farmer triumphantly as he headed quickly for the door. Argis and Ardanthis were surrounded by the joyous band of farmers who all spoke at once and sought to tell stories of how they had fought the wolves and the lupine tactics employed by the beasts. The creatures seemed to never hit the same farm twice in two nights, but tried to be unpredictable. Ardanthis was amused by the way that they easily overlooked his race when it was convenient to their interests.

The stories seemed almost outlandish to the wizard, but he listened carefully in the event that they actually were true. The long walk out to the farm itself was uneventful but the farmers moved quickly and almost fearfully. They were extremely eager to rapidly move the wizard and his housecarl to the farm where the wolves would likely attack.

A sturdy stone and thatch cottage stood near a large grazing pasture where several cows grazed. Eyeing the setting sun, a farmer said, "I'm going to round up all of the cows but one. This will ensure the wolves come and will help hide your scent."

Being invited into the farmstead, the two from Markarth listened to the wives accounts of the wolves. They had spent as much time fighting them as their husbands had, and pointed out the way that the wolves melted away when faced with real opposition.

Night fell quickly after the long journey and fearful tales of the farmers. The tension in the stead steadily increased as time went on, and a brooding silence descended over the group. The farmers grimly clutched makeshift weapons and repeatedly looked to the door as if waiting to bound outside and defend their cattle.

A terrified low could be heard from the cow's pen and then a long, loud howl erupted. The men rushed towards the door with the warrior and wizard hot on their heels. They emerged into the night to see a wide-eyed cow backed into a corner bellowing fearfully at the many wolves gathered before it. The shifting, dark furred mass was constantly in motion, making taking a count of the wolves impossible. They stilled for a moment as they sighted the mass of farmers. As one, they turned to run and began to make for the forest.

Raising his hands and chanting, Ardanthis swept his hands in a wide arc creating a wall of fire. The flames burned bright and hot, cutting off the wolves' retreat. The beasts milled around for a moment before turning to the Nords gathered around them. "Be careful! They're going to be vicious now that they're cornered!" cried one of the farmers.

"FUS RO!" bellowed Ardanthis as he Shouted and a blast of force knocked four wolves into the wall of flames. The creatures burst into flames and rolled around, desperately trying to extinguish the flames but quickly fell still as the magical fire hungrily chewed through their furred bodies.

A violent melee ensued as the wolves and farmers clashed. Argis places himself at the forefront of the battle and his armour and shield warded off the worst of the wolves' attacks. Ard's two steel swords flashed as he swung them in defensive patterns to ward off the wolves and struck where he could. Fighting the wolves was unlike fighting another swordsman, and the wizard's swordplay had to adjust to that. Magic was out of the question for him as all of his mystic concentration was going into maintaining the firewall. A scream peeled out from the right side of the battle as a wolf clamped its jaws down on the arm of a farmer and dragged him down. The others fighting near the man leapt to save him and bashed the wolves around him repeatedly. Struggling backwards and clutching at his wounded arm, the farmer retreated to the cottage as he knew he would just be a liability in the fight.

The battle quickly turned against the wolves and the last few braved the fire instead of the Nords' weapons. A few gouts of fire immolated the beasts and they collapsed to the ground with a high pitched whine. The firewall faded almost instantly and the wizard looked relieved that the burden was off of him as he called out, "Bring the wounded to the cottage. I will care for them there."

The man's shredded arm was the first thing that the High Elf restored to health. His golden glowing hands caused new, pink skin to seal over the wound and the man grinned widely as he gently rubbed the place the wound had been. The rest of the hardy rural farmers had suffered minor wounds as their own numbers allowed them to support each other against the lupine attackers. The thane made sure to tend to each one but he was nearly spent by the end of the ministrations. The farmers who were healthy immediately went back outside and began to skin the wolves and take their teeth as trophies. They chattered excitedly amongst themselves as the thane sat wearily at the table. He looked to the woman who ran the home and asked, "Is there somewhere we can rest? My housecarl and I would like to stay here for the night before returning to Markarth if that is acceptable to you."

The woman was ecstatic with the success of the ambush and nodded enthusiastically, "Of course! My thane, you can have the bed for the night. Your housecarl can find lodgings in the barn-"

"No," forcefully cut in the elf. In a much softer tone he said, "I will not take better quarters than my housecarl. If you have clean hay in your barn, it will suffice for both of us."

The woman nodded nervously, disliking the thane turning down the bed. She gave them quick directions before returning to the wolf pelt gathering effort. They left the house quietly, garnering little attention from those skinning the corpses. There was too much to do before the bodies spoiled or were eaten by other scavengers for the farmers to devote attention to much else. The terrified surviving cow was led by Argis into the barn. The big warrior soothingly murmured to the beast and patted its neck in an effort to comfort it. He led it to an empty stall and closed the door behind it.

One of the other cows lowed softly, nervous from all of the violent noises it had heard and the smell of blood and fire that had wafted into the barn. The skittish animal fussed in its stall and began to bellow louder. Sighing with annoyance, the wizard walked over to its stall and raised a hand. Argis winced, fully expecting the cow to end up dead in one manner or another but a soft green light flared forth instead of fire. The cow immediately stopped its panicking and settled down. It placidly began to eat as the wizard let the light fade and muttered, "Good to know I can manipulate at least a cow's mind." Turning to Argis he grinned and said, "I may not have your natural knack with animals, but I know a smattering of illusion magic to make up for that."

Argis laughed and began to head to a clean stall. He was at the entrance when his foot caught on something in the hay and he fell forward into a pile of hay. He rose and picked up the dropped shovel and looked balefully at it – this was not the tumble in the hay he was looking for right now.

The wizard managed to not snicker at him as he headed to his own stall and slowly removed his armour and began to care for it. Conversation was sparse as the wizard's drained body prevented him from finding the energy to continue a conversation.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The following day was much quieter than its predecessor. The savage battle that had taken place last night was almost entirely erased except for some stray bloodstains and the burned grass. Clouds hung heavy in the sky and the coming rain would wash away the last of the blood that remained. The cows were kept inside the barn to prevent them from eating any bloodstained grass and possibly being infected with whatever had afflicted the wolves. Besides the pack's abnormal size and coordination, the wolves had appeared to be perfectly healthy. This lent credence to the theory that they were being magically coerced into it, but the wizard did not sense that from the wolves nor did he see any bears.

The High Elf and housecarl left the farm to the waves and appreciation of the farmers who were overjoyed to know their livestock would be safe from marauding beasts. The two men spent the rest of the day making their way back to the city. The late afternoon sun was completely blocked by the heavy clouds and the two hurried to return to Vlindrel Hall before the rains arrived and soaked them. Rushing along with everyone else in the city who wanted to avoid the rain, they arrived at the entrance of the Hall and slowed down in confusion. An older, well dressed man stood next to beautiful young woman who bore a striking resemblance to the man next to her. Ardanthis' brows were already contracting as he approached the pair by the door.

The well dressed man said with a large grin, "My thane! It is good to see your safe return. My daughter here has been dying to meet you since we heard you were looking to marry." He elbowed his daughter, "Isn't that right, Ilsa?" The girl nodded meekly before her father continued, "She would just love to get to know you, and wouldn't you like to spend some time with her? Just look at her – radiant!"

Ardanthis wanted to hit the man who was so obviously hawking his daughter like a prime cut of meat. The girl, Ilsa, was clearly regarding the elf with trepidation and had no desire to get to know him any better. Attempting to resolve it diplomatically he instead said, "You must be behind in court gossip, good sir. I have no interest in anyone's daughter."

With a flustered expression crossing his face the courtier stammered out, "Well, I had heard something of that – of that nature, but I didn't believe..."

Coolly regarding the older man, the wizard replied, "Perhaps you will believe now. Like I said to the court, I am looking for a worthy husband."

With a brusque nod and hasty excuses the man and his daughter left the other two men standing alone at the doorway into the Hall. They quickly entered their home as the first raindrops of a ferocious storm began to hit the ground. Argis quickly excused himself to return to his room. He sunk heavily to the stone bed and sighed deeply at the day's events. For the time they had been fighting the wolves, it had been just like the first time they had fought together. It had been reflexive and not complicated by the politics of the region. Despite the greater implications of the war against the Stormcloaks, Argis couldn't give a damn about it. He would have fought wolves for the rest of his life if he could just fight them with Ardanthis.

The following day saw no more suitors pester the two men and they again went to the tavern for leads. The barkeep, now much calmer, laughingly joked with the thane and his housecarl before handing them a bounty that the Jarl had put out on a giant that was roaming the highlands. It would be particularly dangerous as it had no mammoths with it, showing it to be desperate and more inclined to raid for survival.

Argis and Ard slipped out of the tavern as it began to fill up and headed into the hinterlands where the beast was supposed to lurk. A massive bonfire crackled in the middle of a flat plain despite the sun gleaming overhead. The giant quickly spotted the two men and assumed they were weak and helpless. It recklessly charged them, swinging its club in a heavy overhand swing which missed both men. The two immediately flanked the creature and scored heavy cuts on its legs. The creature whipped around, blood flowing down its legs as it scowled at the two men who split up. It initially pursued the Altmer, it's long legs and heavy feet hammering the earth in pursuit, but it couldn't catch the darting elf. Argis harried it from behind by jabbing his blade into its lower back before retreating again.

The blood loss and squalid living conditions left the creature lurching around unsteadily. It roared once more and raised its hammer to slam it down onto Argis. Taking advantage of the creature's distraction, Ardanthis hurled a fireball into its back. The sudden pain and explosion of force knocked the creature forward and off balance. Argis deftly side stepped the falling monster and immediately pounced on its burned back, and jabbed his sword into the giant's neck and grinned viciously as it released a hot spurt of blood. The creature flailed desperately for a moment longer before it went completely still amidst the spreading pool of its own blood.

Hopping off the body, Argis cleaned his blade on a clean part of the giant's loincloth and was slightly horrified to watch his thane carefully hacking off a toe with his glass dagger. "What are you doing!" asked the housecarl in complete surprise.

Without looking up, the Altmer said, "Harvesting a reagent. Come now, you don't object when I pick herbs but you protest now? This will make a powerful potion or poison depending on what I mix it with."

The High Elf held the toe up triumphantly and Argis winced slightly. Stuffing the toe into a small bag, they hurried back to the city to cure it so it wouldn't spoil.

Before entering their home, they decided to visit Understone Keep and get a few more of the Jarl's coins. The spoke softly to a functionary, the amount being too small to warrant the attentions of the Jarl, who signed off on the bounty and fetched them their reward. Flush with the septims, Ardanthis headed over to the alchemist's shop with the intention of making something out of the toe without bothering to cure it.

The shop was the only reputable alchemist for miles and the wide variety of both ingredients and finished potions made it a popular destination for all kinds of customers. People from rural areas could be seen stopping by for cures for their livestock's illnesses and they stood cheek by jowl with nobles looking for elixirs to make them more nimble tongued in their negotiations. Adventurers formed the greatest number of customers though, and they bought just about every kind of potion the shop sold.

Seeing the alchemist's table was unused the wizard hastily began to barter with the woman behind the counter for some other ingredients. Argis, largely confused by the advanced alchemic processes that they were discussing, wandered the store trying to see which potions and herbs that he recognized from what the elf had taught him.

"Argis!" called the elf, "I'm going to be a while with this." Shrugging indifferently the housecarl watched with amusement as the elf began firing up burners and pounds herbs into paste. The Nord was amused by the wizard's great deal of concentration as he carefully ground some leaves into bits. Continuing his slow browsing of the store as the minutes passed, the housecarl was pleased to see so many herbs he thought he recognized. He considered trying his own hand at making a potion from what he knew when his attention was suddenly drawn to the alchemist's table.

A large Nord in steel armour sauntered up to the concentrating elf, who was carefully mixing drops of various distillations together, and draped his arm around the elf's shoulders for a moment before his hand migrated down to the wizard's butt. The oafish man's hand jarred one of the distilling machines as he said with arrogance, "So I heard that you're looking for a good man to be with. I'm offer-"

Whatever speech the man had prepared was interrupted by the wizard's despairing shout of, "What have you done!" as he darted away from the other man's heavy weight and groping hand.

The Nord looked down at the elf as he was almost a head above the already tall Altmer, "I'm just offering you the chance to be with a real Nord. You know, have a real guard instead of that housecarl you're with now. That and something more." A lewd wink accompanied the last comment, and the elf nearly gagged at the implication.

Fury immediately overcame his disgust and he clenched his fist. He swung it not at the Nord's face as was expected but slammed his fist into the man's chest. In the split second before connecting, the fist burst into flame and an explosion flashed from the point of impact. The effect of the attack was immediate, and the large Nord was knocked over as the metal of his armor caved under the magical assault. The store smelled of cooked flesh and a glance at the red hot chest plate revealed that it was probably fused to the man's chest by the heat.

The wizard stalked up to the prone man and spat down, "How _dare_ you presume to lay your hands on a thane in such a way. How _dare_ you insult my housecarl-" This time, the wizard was cut off a clumsily swung fist. There was no real force behind the blow but the elf stepped back anyway and let it sail past. Glancing disdainfully at the attack, the wizard held out one splayed hand and lightning coursed from it into the reviving Nord. The man on the ground screamed as the energy made him convulse.

After that one burst of electricity, the wizard ended it and snarled to a stunned but equally infuriated Argis, "He can afford healing – he's got a heavy purse on his belt," as he stormed out of the building and into the street. He calmed down once he exited the alchemist's shop and he was unsure of whether or not to regret his actions with this lewd beast. He knew the man deserved it, but the savagery probably hurt his image with the rest of Markarth.

Argis took a deep breath to try to calm himself as the elf looked off into the distance. He softly said, "That was a bad idea. No one would have disagreed with you for putting him in his place, my thane, but that was...excessive."

The elf looked at the Nord and muttered bitterly, "I will _not_ let myself become cowed by some beast of a man, especially when he attempts to degrade both myself and you. Besides, I would think that the other Nords would respect the show of might to protect my honour."

An exasperated sigh burst out of the housecarl and he said with more force, "Had you bested him with a sword maybe, but you used magic. You underhandedly beat him and the story that Markarth hears will reflect that. Did you even think of what people would say when an Altmer nearly killed a Nord in Markarth?"

"Not in that moment, no," responded the wizard with a dejected exhalation.

Argis frowned and gestured back towards the store before adding, "Many of the people in there didn't hear the original exchange between you two and only saw an enraged Altmer blow away and then electrocute a Nord. At the very best, this would be an abuse of position. At the worst it would be a strong example of how the Thalmor are dominating our city." He eyed the wizard critically and said, "At the very least, work on your swordsmanship and best fools with those. Other Nords will appreciate that more than a fireball."

A soft frown formed on the elf's lips as he held up a hand that burned gently, "I just reacted to him and I'm not proud of it. He ruined my potion, treated me like a common whore, and then insulted you. I wish he hadn't done all of that and pushed me into lashing out, but... but you're right. I shouldn't have dealt with him so harshly."

Waving his hand dismissively, the wizard walked away from the store with Argis in tow. The housecarl looked back at the store and several people were cautiously watching them depart with worried expressions on their faces.

They simply decided to retire to the Hall as a way to escape the spoiled day. They approached the hall to see a courier waiting for them there. The young man gave them a smile and handed a small stack of letters to the wizard saying, "It looks like quite a few people want your attention, thane!"

Thanking the man and tipping him a septim, the wizard took the letters and slipped inside of Vlindrel Hall.

Wordlessly, the elf slipped into his room after depositing the letters on the table and the housecarl began to throw a stew together from the herbs and ingredients that were available to him. The wizard shortly re-emerged and sat down to stare into the fire for a moment. He sighed gustily and picked up the first letter and examined its seal without opening it. He repeated the process for each envelope and smirked after examining the last one. "They're all from various noble families from various social strata within the city," he said with a grin.

The burly warrior nodded as he sat down across from the wizard and asked, "Aren't you curious what they say? You haven't opened any of them."

Shrugging, Ardanthis replied, "I'll be damned if they're not marriage offers and proposals. But I should check, shouldn't I?"

Without waiting for a reply to his rhetorical question, the wizard broke the seal on the first letter and quickly skimmed it. He put it down and opened another one and chuckled at it before putting it down next to the last one. The rest of the letters were stacked into one pile or the other and Argis glanced curiously at the two stacks as the wizard looked through the last letter and put it on the larger pile. Noting Argis' curious glance, the wizard offhandedly said, "Go ahead and read them if you want – I was right."

The housecarl picked up the larger stack of letters first and began to read through them. The Altmer was right, they were marriage proposals. The offers were formulaically written and felt like contracts rather than expressions of love. Each one was written by the patriarch of the family and began with a description of the family's illustrious history and current importance within the city. This posturing was immediately followed by a flattering description of the potential partner and their interest in the Altmer. The marriage was always couched in the most emotionless terms possible and was frequently termed an "alliance" or a "union." The housecarl skimmed the rest letters and saw that they were all almost written in the same way.

"They offer their daughters up like sacrifices to the elven beast," disdainfully snorted the wizard as he rose to stir the stew. The Nord picked through the letters and noted which families were willing to offer their daughters up.

"They really are gambling, you know," continued the elf, "If the war goes against the Imperials, then they might have cause to regret their involvement with a High Elf. They'd probably blame it on the Thalmor and get off with being pitied."

Putting down the larger stack, Argis picked up the much smaller stack of letters. Peering at the seals he noticed that a few of them were the same ones from the first stack. These letters were also marriage offers and were written with a similar amount of postulation. Interestingly though, they offered sons instead of daughters. Argis' carefully read these letters as each patriarch carefully laid out how this or that son would be a perfect match.

Seeing that the Nord had picked up the smaller stack, the wizard tasted the stew and threw in some more garlic before adding, "I'm impressed they sent those to me. I didn't think any of them would sell out their sons as quickly as their daughters, but I was wrong it appears." Tasting the soup once more and nodding with satisfaction the elf ladled out a bowlful and put in front of the still astounded housecarl. Getting himself a bowl, he sat down across from Argis at the small kitchen table. "You can throw those in the fire," he said casually.

Argis looked up in surprise and asked, "Are you sure? You could really benefit from some of these offers. Accepting any one of these offers would cement your position in this city." Though the words cut him badly to say, he had to, or else he would feel disloyal to his thane.

Nodding grimly, the wizard answered, "Cement my position while embroiling me in the petty politics of this city." He waved his hand dismissively, "Besides they only really offer wealth and minor position. I could achieve those on my own." He hesitated before looking into the fire and continuing, "I want someone who would love me and share that position with me. Look at the letters – they're all written by the fathers who are willing to use their children like pawns." His voice took on a bitter cast as his gaze continued to rest on the dancing flames of the hearth, "They offer me fops and damsels. Most of the choices I'm offered wouldn't know how to work a kitchen knife let alone any kind of real weapon. I'd be chained down to someone who would never leave the city and would probably hate me. True, love might grow despite the poor soil, but I don't want to chance that. I want someone who would love me for what I am now and not what they hope I could be to them." He pulled his black robes tighter around him and took his amulet in hand, asking softly, "Mara, why do you make it so hard to find this love?"

Argis was dumbstruck by his thane's words. He breathed in to say something but he hesitated. Should he risk all and reveal his feelings? What if he was rejected? What if he was accepted? Time seemed to slow as his mind raced around in fear in this pivotal moment. He was paralyzed by indecision as he tried to judge the right choice. He pushed aside his better judgement which told him not to risk everything he had spent his life building for this. It hissed he was throwing it all away on a pipedream, but the housecarl settled on a decision. He could not live without hope.

"Mara doesn't make it hard to find someone who loves you, my thane. Sometimes he's sitting in front of you with a bowl of stew that's growing cold," he said hoarsely.

His throat felt tight and it almost stopped the rough words from slipping out. His one working eye looked to the wizard with a mixture of hope and resignation before he closed his eyes for a moment. You knew exactly who you were up against, he snarled mentally at himself, but you still tried. What do you think you had to offer? You're a poor housecarl whose service is guaranteed to him. He gains _nothing_ by marrying you.

Slowly opening his eyes he met the bewildered expression of the elf. The confused expression begged for explanation in a way that words never would have been able to convey. The housecarl spilled words out in a mess, all his restraint gone, and nearly babbling, "I didn't like you at first. I hated you because you were an elf and risking both our lives recklessly. But I saw it then. I saw how you were caught by who and what you were. I saw how you fought everyone who just tolerated you, who tried to use you and I didn't want to be one of those people. I saw you were strong and that you cared when you didn't have to, when no one would have blamed you for not caring. Then...then I started to love you."

The Nord looked away, disgusted at himself for letting all of that out. The truth didn't always set people free, but could get them locked away or killed.

Blinking stupidly, the wizard asked numbly, "You love me?"

Argis and sucked in a deep breath and his usually deep voice whispered, "I know I don't have any title or lands, but I have a heart wide open and it's yours if you'll have me."

The words felt foolish and poetic slipping off of Argis's tongue, but he spoke them anyway. Give him a sword and shield and he would face down whatever came his way, but words were a tool that he was never adept with.

Ardanthis' bewildered expression quickly changed into a large grin and he laughed and declared, "Yes, by all the Divines, yes."


	13. Chapter 13

AN: Just a warning for all of you, this chapter _will_ contain graphic bits towards the bottom. A warning is flagged in double brackets for those of you who do not wish to read it. I hope you enjoy the rest of the chapter, though. As always, reviews are appreciated.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The High Elf slipped the amulet off his neck and he felt that he were taking a massive weight off instead of a golden trinket. "Thank you, Mara," he whispered before looking to his fiancée with an excited grin.

"I never would have imagined that love had sat so close to me for so long, Argis," said the elf in a soft voice as he took the warrior's hands in his.

The warrior nodded wordlessly, too overcome with emotions to actually articulate his joy. He knew it wouldn't be easy for them, many Nords hated elves after all, but it would be worth it. No more searching, wondering, or fearing about the future. It was all right here in front of him. Relief swept through his body when the Altmer had said "yes" for it felt like all the hope and self-denial that had lead to this moment had been rewarded. He felt terrifyingly lucky as his gaze flicked over the Altmer's angular features. He mentally winced at how his own scarred features must have looked next to the handsome wizard's. He said in his gruff voice, "We're going to have to get married in Riften's Temple of Mara, you know that don't you?"

"Of course. We should leave for there tomorrow!" cried the wizard with excitement.

Argis laughed at the absurd image before him. Ardanthis, the dragonborn and a powerful wizard, had lost all his usual hauteur and stiffness. He was acting like nothing more than an excited child as he discussed plans for shutting up the Hall again. Ard didn't care what the Jarl wanted or what the court had to say anymore. He just wanted to get to Riften and its temple. The wizard gleefully got his own bowl of stew and continued to speak of journeying to Riften in between bites.

The wizard's animated demeanour reassured the housecarl that this was all real, and that this wasn't going to end with him waking up alone like a cruel dream. That night, the doors of the rooms of Vlindrel Hall were thrown wide open. The two men still slept in their own rooms, but a flirtatious element quickly slipped into their routines as they playfully teased each other. It was a strange sort of relief for them to be able to openly express their feelings in the privacy of Vlindrel Hall.

As the evening wore on, exhaustion began to claim them both and they headed for their rooms. Too excited to completely drop the flirtation that had already begun, they teasingly kept it up even as they prepared for sleep.

Standing in his room where he was clearly visible to his thane, the Nord waited and looked at the elf. Ard slowed down to look at Argis, and the warrior slowly took off his shirt and stretched, causing all of his hard-won muscles to stand out. Argis pointedly looked at the wizard as the elf's eyes raked over the Nord's hairy, muscular chest and arms. Turning away, the Nord gave the wizard a good view of the rippling muscles of his back. Grinning in satisfaction the Nord continued to prepare to sleep.

A short time later he looked through the doors to the wizard's room. The elf was facing away from him and was using a wet cloth to bathe himself. The warrior admired the surprisingly muscular back of the elf and realized that all the sword training was really filling out the elf's frame. Standing straight, the Altmer squeezed the rag and a small dribble of water was released over his back. Argis followed a drop of water with his eyes as it travelled down the elf's spine and disappeared beneath the waist of the man's pants. His gaze wandered back up to see the elf grinning mischievously over his shoulder at Argis, who blushed slightly and went back to his room.

The Nord shook his head ruefully, grinning at himself. The elf was by no means his first love. He had been with many men over the course of his life, but it felt different this time around and he didn't know why. He tried not to imagine himself as a foolish romantic, but the feelings behind these unsophisticated examples of flirting made them feel like so much more. This didn't feel like anything else he had really experienced before. His mind tracked back through his life as he lay down to sleep in his own bed. His mind flickered through lovers until he reached Firjald. He didn't want to compare his thane to that man, but they shared the fact that Argis had been in love with them at separate times.

The Nord sighed in mental annoyance as he tried to sift the two loves apart. Firjald had swept him away with the newness of love. It was a naive sort of love that was more a matter of infatuation. Though it produced similar feelings to what he felt now, he knew that they were not the same thing. Ardanthis loved him after a long time of being friends. There was substance behind it that his relationship with Firjald had lacked.

Despite the erotic elements to the flirting that went on between the two men, Argis knew that he would be happy just to sit with Ardanthis. Argis felt happy just being close to the wizard. Of course, he wanted a sexual aspect to his marriage but he was glad it wasn't the only thing that defined their relationship.

He grinned stupidly into the dark as he realized that their courtship had taken the form of combat. Flowers, poetry, and slow walks were not what defined their love. It was action, conflict, and the closeness that came from that combat which forged the tight bond between the two.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Both men rose early the next day, a nervous excitement filling them despite the actual marriage being days away due to travel time.

"I'm going to enjoy telling the Jarl about our marriage, you know," said the elf with a wicked grin.

Argis mirrored the man's grin as he finished baking some potatoes to eat with the rest of their breakfast. He sighed as he looked at all the supplies they had bought and realized that all of this would spoil before they could eat it. He had despised wasting food ever since he was young. Food wasn't always readily available on the farm and his parents taught him to not squander the bounty of the earth. He suddenly grinned as a solution came to him and he asked the wizard, "Could we stop off at Frost Oak farm as we head to Riften? All of this food will spoil, and Selta and her family could probably use it."

Nodding the wizard said, "I hadn't even thought of the food. It would have been a nightmare to get the smell of rotten carrots out of the Hall, so good idea, Argis."

Most of the food was still in the boxes that it had come in when they purchased it, which made it easy to repackage. Stacking the boxes neatly near the doorway, they left the Hall for Understone Keep after dressing in their armour. They wanted to leave for Riften without wasting further time on preparations.

They strode up to the keep and Argis matched the young guard's caustic scowl with a triumphant smile. The man was clearly confused by the housecarl's expression, but they quickly made their way past him.

The cool confines of the Keep were a familiar feeling to both men as they rapidly made their way to the throne. The elf exuded confidence as he approached the Jarl. The throne room was surprisingly silent for once as court was not in session. Jarl Igmund sat on his throne with a small stack of papers tucked in next to his leg. He was closely examining what appeared to be a letter as he looked up at the approaching pair.

"And what do you want now?" he asked with exhaustion.

Respectfully, the elf said, "We're departing from the city again and will be leaving for Riften."

Examining the elf more closely the Jarl smirked, "No amulet? What fool drunk did you find to marry you? I doubt any other kind of man of Markarth would be willing to marry an Altmer."

Argis subtly stiffened at the unwitting insult, and Ardanthis' voice became noticeably cold as he said, "I will be marrying Argis the Bulwark. Refrain from insulting him, Jarl."

The Jarl likely would normally have been offended by the commanding nature of the Altmer's words, but he was clearly too shocked to feel offended. His gaze flicked between the two men for a silent moment before he eased back in his throne and regained his composure. He nodded, saying, "Argis? Well that _is_ a surprise. I didn't know that your housecarl was... inclined in that way. Regardless, go to Riften and marry then. I will not be one to stand in the way of Mara's will." He waved his hand, dismissing them and giving his assent to their departure. Ardanthis was quite surprised by the ease with which the Jarl had let him go, but he glanced at the massive stack of paper work that Igmund had to work through. He pitied the Jarl, despite his rough attitude for he was trapped between the demands of the people of Markarth and the demands of the Thalmor, and neither group gave him peace.

They arrowed straight back to their home and rapidly packed travelling supplies. Donning armour and weapons they conversed little as each one tried to take everything they would need for the journey to Riften. Picking up the crates of various perishable supplies, they locked the Hall behind them and left.

It wasn't even noon by the time they found a wagon to carry them to Riften and would stop off at the farm on the way. Loading their burden onto the wagon, Ardanthis paid the driver without haggling. The man offered a reasonable rate and the wizard was too happy to be inclined to try to hold onto those few extra septims. Climbing into the wagon, they sat next to each other, enjoying the physical closeness.

Looking back at the city as the cart rumbled away from it, Argis was struck with a strange feeling. He realized how often he had watched the city disappear behind him as he left it behind, but this leaving was coloured by the fact that he wasn't going to battle anything but to build a relationship.

"What's wrong, Argis?" asked the Altmer with a smile.

Jolted out of his reverie the Nord looked at his fiancée and shook his head, "Nothing. I'm just not used to leaving Markarth for something not related to bloodshed." The driver was too busy steering the wagon to look back at his passengers, and the blustery winds carried their words away before they could reach his ears. Argis felt a strange sense of privacy and safety in the cart.

He cast a last gaze at the city as it disappeared around the curve of the road and continued, "You know, I thought I would be more worried that the court knew of my...preferences. But now? Now it all seems so trivial what they think. Even being a housecarl seems less important since, if they take that from me, they can't take you."

The wizard matched the Nord's smile and suddenly smirked as he replied, "You'll be old news to them within a few days, especially since you're out of the city. They'll look for someone else to sink their gossip fangs into. But the court is immaterial to me, what I'm more concerned about is how your family will take it. I know many of the more conservative Nords would be appalled at our union, even if Mara accepts it."

The housecarl shook his head, "I don't know, truthfully. But if Selta and her husband disapprove it won't stop anything. I'm not letting them dictate my life to me."

Leaning in closer to the Nord, the elf whispered in a soft voice, "I'm very glad of this, though I don't want to create conflict between you and your family."

Being in such close proximity, they wordlessly came the same decision. Bridging those last few inches, they shared their first kiss. It was moments before tongues were sliding against each other as they each tried to take in as much of the other as they could.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

True to his agreement, the driver paused at Frost Oak farm. The two men hopped out with their boxes of food. They approached the house and knocked on the door. Balvor opened it cautiously, but threw it wide open when he saw who it was. "Argis!" he said with a grin, "What brings you back around here?"

Selta bustled up beside her husband when she heard Argis' name and managed a polite smile for Ard. She looked back to her brother as he spoke, "We have some gifts for you. We aren't going to be in town to actually eat them, so we thought we'd drop them off for you on our way."

Balvor's smile fell and his brows contracted slightly as he cautiously said, "We don't need charity."

Stepping forward slightly, the Altmer said with a small smile, "But no one likes waste, correct? We didn't want good food to rot needlessly and with such healthy, growing boys we figured it would be better used here."

Argis mentally sighed in relief as he heard Ardanthis' reason. While all of them knew that farm like was difficult and hunger was a constant enemy, it would have shamed Balvor to admit he was unable to care for his family. Selta's husband seemed to accept the reason as honourable and not an act of charity. They accepted the boxes of food with thanks and invited the pair in.

"I'm sorry, Selta, but we can't stay. We have to continue on to Riften."

The woman's interest was suddenly piqued and she asked in a teasing voice, "A why are you going to Riften? You aren't getting married are you?"

Argis blushed and Ard nearly laughed at the big Nord as he was so easily embarrassed. He listened with interest as the housecarl replied, "Well, yes, I am."

Selta was taken aback by this. She had not expected him to actually answer in the affirmative. She stammered out, "But...oh. Well, where is she? Is she in the wagon still? You must fetch her so I can meet my new sister in law. It was gracious of your thane to allow you to marry her."

Ard coughed slightly and looked to Argis, letting the Nord break the truth to his sister. Turning an even deeper shade of red, the blonde warrior said softly, "There is no one else in the cart. I am marrying my thane."

His sister's expression could not have been more shocked as she flicked her gaze between the two men. She quickly mastered her shock and nodded to her brother, warmly saying, "Then I wish you all the best."

She approached the Altmer hesitantly and stood before him. Her eyes looked over his strong featured as she stared up into his face. Ard kept silent and returned her gaze, unsure of how he should react to this kind of scrutiny. Selta suddenly threw her arms around the elf and said in a hoarse voice, "Welcome to the family, Ardanthis. You take good care of my brother, because I've only seen him twice in the last two decades and I don't want to lose either of you now." The elf hesitantly returned the hug and she could feel his nod.

"I am more than capable of taking care of myself, Selta," said Argis in a slightly testy voice.

Releasing the elf, she pointedly looked at her brother, "Then how did you get all those scars? You can't do everything alone, Argis, and I want to be sure that your – husband will be there for you."

Ardanthis cleared his throat, "I can assure you that I will be there for him." He also pointedly looked at Argis before continuing, "I already have been, haven't I, Argis?"

The warrior threw his hands up in exasperation but couldn't hold in a smile.

Balvor remained conspicuously silent throughout the entire exchange and his eyes flicked between speakers as he stood in the doorway with his arms crossed. His wife stepped back and nudged him slightly with her elbow and murmured, "Come now, Balvor, don't be so stiff. This is a happy occasion."

Completely ignoring the elf, Balvor looked sadly to Argis and said slowly, "You couldn't even find a Nord?" before turning away and re-entering the house.

Selta looked down with shame for a moment but quickly tried to recover and smiled at Argis, "He'll come around eventually, you know." She reached out and took his hand and added, "Go and get married. Come back when you are united through Mara."

The two men left the farm with light hearts, despite Balvor's comment. They returned to wagon and resumed their travels.

The journey to Riften was a long one and the wagon pulled off the roads in the nights to allow the horses to rest. Though the driver didn't ask for it, his two passengers helped him care for the horses and make camp. They also split the watches between themselves, partially to give the driver a break and partially because they didn't trust him to remain awake. Outside of the moving wagon, conversation flagged and the thane and his housecarl were more reserved. The wagon driver was not an unkind person, but he was gruff and focused on his profits. He also seemed somewhat paranoid of his two passengers and only slept begrudgingly. The thane and his housecarl were too in love to care about the baseless fears of the driver, but did their best not to agitate him.

After the first few nights, the driver's fear seemed absurd as the excitement in the two other men built. The large lake that Riften was built next to came into view and Ardanthis gave Argis' hand a small squeeze as the wagon rumbled up to the stables that sat outside of the city. Jumping out of the back with their packs, Ardanthis paid the driver the rest of the sum he was owed.

They entered the city and looked around at the wooden buildings and vertical building style. The tall buildings reminded the two men faintly of Markarth in that both cities were tiered. After asking for a few simple directions at the inn, they headed for the large Temple of Mara.

Entering into the warm and well lit interior they were met by a smiling priest in simple brown robes.

"Welcome to the Temple of Mara, friends. Do you require healing, or is there something else you need of us?" he asked.

Ardanthis stated simply, "We would like to arrange a marriage."

Nodding, the man inquired, "Is it for the two of you? Mara smiles on all unions of love."

Argis was relieved that the priest hadn't hesitated to give his assent or made the process more difficult than it already was. There was no condemnation in the priest's eyes or judgement in his voice. There were no unasked questions lingering unspoken as he smiled at the two men.

The elf straightened his back and nodded briskly at the priest, adding, "I am...less than familiar with marriage customs in Skyrim. Is there anything I need to know to do?" Though he appeared to be confident, it was clear he was nervous over this point. He did not like to look ignorant.

Smiling softly, the priest shook his head, responding, "Skyrim does not generally have overly ornate weddings, and many people choose to get married in their everyday clothes or armour." Chuckling, he continued, "Of course, they usually choose to polish it up a little to make it more presentable."

A sigh of relief escaped the Altmer as he asked, "So, when will the marriage ceremony actually occur?"

The priest shrugged, "Marriage ceremonies do not take long, so tomorrow if you prefer."

"To-tomorrow?" stammered the elf in surprise. He quickly recovered his composure and continued much more serenely, "We will be ready for tomorrow. Thank you, priest of Mara."

They left the church to rent separate rooms at the Bee and Barb. They were each nervous about the marriage, but not apprehensive. There was no regret or second guessing, but how could they not be afraid with such a momentous time lying directly ahead of them?

Separate rooms were chosen despite their having shared a room before. They didn't want to try to share a room this time due to the added tension over the next day's marriage when it was mixed in with the newly liberated sexual tension they both felt. Speaking softly, they agreed that Argis would be the first to arrive at the temple and that the thane would come shortly after.

Ardanthis quietly breathed in and out, meditating in his room. He knew his armour was in pristine condition, but he wanted to make his wedding grander than the simple affair the priest seemed to accept. He could hear the soft scrape of Argis' whetstone moving along his blade and the warrior made soft noises as he prepared his own armour for the coming day. Ardanthis mentally sighed, imagining the warrior in his gleaming armour. He did not want to shame his love by showing up in just his leather armour, not when he knew he could do so much better.

An idea suddenly struck him and he grinned like a fool as his hands began to softly glow green.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The heavy thud of Argis' footsteps going down the stairs told Ardanthis that his future husband had departed for the church. He rose up off the bed and began to chant softly as he traced his fingers down the armour in arcane patterns. The runes initially flared green for a moment before fading away, but the elf knew that they were still there. He was prepared for the process, so it did not take him long to make the necessary marks. He quickly followed in the housecarl's footsteps and made his way down the stairs. Pausing for a moment at the innkeeper, the wizard paid the man for a single room for that night. Ard briskly headed for the temple, excited, fearful, and resolute all at once.

Riften itself paid no attention to this particular elf as he strode quickly through the streets. The city was too intent on its own secrets and worries to particularly care that one man was headed towards the one of the most important moments in his life.

The Temple itself was grand without being ostentatious. It was constructed of simple wood like the rest of the city, but it was sitting on a slightly higher section of the city. Quickly climbing the stone steps to the Temple, the High Elf stood at the doors with his palms sweating inside of the leather gloves he was wearing. He nervously took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine a life with someone other than the housecarl, but he couldn't see himself next to anyone else. Argis didn't love him for his wealth or his position as a thane, but for himself. While he knew he could – maybe even should – marry someone more powerful, Ardanthis didn't need what they offered. He could achieve wealth and power on his own terms, but love and joy? Those could not be found in the bottom of a deserted fort or in the back of a cave. He opened his eyes, certainty filling and calming him, before turning the door handle.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Argis had entered the temple earlier than his love, as they had agreed on. His armour gleamed in the torchlight as if he were going to perform in a military parade and had a crowd to impress. He didn't care about impressing anyone but the man who would walk through that door and meet him here. He constantly fidgeted as he waited, and the inability to know whether the elf would actually come for him greatly worried him. He quickly chastised himself, how could he doubt his thane? A little voice in the back of his head whispered about the mortification that would await him if he was stood up, but he refused to let that fear cow him.

The temple attendants went about their usual duties quietly and gave him space and silence in which to wait. He looked to the statue of Mara and tried to trust her, to just let go of uncertainty, but he couldn't master that feeling. A nervous energy filled him as he again forced his hands to fall still, but his fear would not be banished easily. He quietly wished Ardanthis would hurry and enter the church to vindicate Argis' faith in him. He wanted to believe, truly believe, in someone and he hoped that Ardanthis would be the person who didn't let him down.

The door clicked and Argis' heart leaped at hearing the sound he had been waiting for. He looked over to the door as his worries snidely hissed that lots of people used the temple, and his love wouldn't come through the door. A hush fell over the temple as the attendants looked up at the elf who quietly entered the temple and closed the door behind himself.

Ardanthis looked up to Argis and smiled softly. The wizard's grin widened as a soft, green luminescence poured up out of his armour. Walking forward, the green light seemed to stretch and form tendrils around the wizard before detaching to serenely circle the wizard. He slowly made his way up the aisle to Argis who looked with wonder at his fiancée. A soft chiming noise accompanied the whirling arcs of gentle magical energy.

The elf approached the altar and took his place across from Argis. Ard held out his hands as green light altered its pattern to encompass the warrior in its slow laps around the wizard. The light reflected off of his brightly polished armour, mantling the warrior in his own soft light.

Unhesitatingly Argis reached out and grasped the wizard's outstretched hands. He felt a strange but not unpleasant tingling in his hands as they connected with the softly glowing ones of the man he was to marry. The glow that lingered on the elf immediately faded, though the whirls of green continued their slow dance around the two men. Argis looked down in surprise as a small, chiming white light formed between their clasped hands and shot towards the ceiling, dragging the ethereal green strips with it. It hung there as a soft and wordless song began to spill out of the white light which seemed as delicate as the green strips that wavered around it. The green light began to dip and rise to the music as if it were dancing to it.

Argis tugged his gaze down from the glowing orb to the widely grinning face of the Altmer. "It's beautiful," he said softly.

Gently brushing back a stray strand of hair from Argis' face, the wizard said simply, "I know the priest said that there was little emphasis put on flashy weddings, but I wanted this to be special. I wanted it to be more than acceptable to you."

His eyes roved up to the glowing, musical orb and looked back to the wizard with an appreciative smile, "It's more than I ever expected. I never really had a dream set out for a wedding, but this? This surpasses anything I could have imagined. Many, many people never even make it to _the_ Temple of Mara for their weddings."

The priest approached the pair, his approach delayed by his own wonderment with the wizard's spell. He looked to the two smiling men, their hands clasped, and intoned, "We stand here, before Mara to join these two souls together, to bind them in love so that their hearts may never know loneliness again. Mara smiles on joyous unions and the happiness of mortals is her happiness. She is the one who taught us to love, and it is by her grace that we find sanctuary in the heart of another. In this world, it is often said that the value of true love exceeds all the riches of Tamriel. Mara is she who unites two disparate people so that they may share this wealth with one another." He looked to Argis and continued, "Do you, Argis the Bulwark of Frost Oak farm, housecarl of Markarth, take Ardanthis the Dragonborn, thane of Markarth to be your husband?"

Argis stated clearly and loudly without ever breaking eye contact with the wizard, "I do. I will cherish and love him with everything I have and am."

Nodding, the priest looked to Ardanthis and asked, "Do you Ardanthis the Dragonborn, thane of Markarth take Argis the Bulwark of Frost Oak farm, housecarl of Markarth to be your husband?"

"I do. We will always be united, even if we're miles apart," answered the wizard, his eyes sparkling with delight.

"Then, under the eyes of Mara the goddess of love, you are a unified couple. May your love be the inseparable bond that links you both together without fail!" declared the priest.

The attendants clapped loudly as the two newlyweds met in a passionate kiss and the glittering light over their heads burst into large streamers of light and sang out a triumphant paean before fading away. Everyone else in the temple was amazed by the magical display, but Argis and Ardanthis only had eyes for each other.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

They rushed back to the Bee and Barb, grinning excitedly at each other. Late afternoon light illuminated the inn's interior but the couple didn't pause to enjoy it. They hurried past the inquisitive eyes of the Argonian innkeeper and up the stairs to the room that Ard had rented.

((Graphic sex will begin shortly after this, feel free to skip to the next chapter. There won't be any plot relevant information below, just smut.))

They burst into the room, and immediately closed the door behind them. Breathing heavily, they stood apart for a moment as they drank in the form of the other before crashing into each other. Gloved hands roamed hard bodies as they passionately kissed. Breaking apart they immediately began to undress. The wizard turned to the door and snapped out a short spell, causing the door to glow green before the gentle glow swept out around the walls. "We're not going to be heard or interrupted," said the wizard in a husky voice. He continued in a softer tone, "I've given us what privacy I can." Though each would have preferred to have their first time happen within the safe confines of Vlindrel Hall, neither was willing to wait to return to Markarth.

Argis nodded his thanks as he slid his gloves off and threw them in a corner. The efficacy of the wizard's spell was immediately noticeable as the gloves didn't thud as they hit the wall or the floor. The warrior looked with surprise to the gloves as he began to work on the straps that held his armour to him. Lust made his fingers clumsy, but experience allowed him to quickly take it off. This would not be the first time he had to take his armour in a lust-fueled haze, so the warrior was familiar with the difficulties. He knew he had to concentrate for a short time on the immediate task of disrobing. His sheathed sword and shield were quickly removed and thrown to the side. With another soundless impact, the shining breastplate landed in the corner with the gloves and armaments. Two smaller impacts followed the breastplate as the warrior's boots landed on top of the pile without gentle thuds of their own. His greaves were slightly more complicated to remove but he removed them with a small struggle and they landed on the pile in the corner. The warrior breathed a relieved sigh of comfort as he was clad only in his soft cotton shirt and pants. He looked with amusement at the wizard.

Ardanthis most definitely did not possess the same agility and dexterity in lust as the Nord did. He managed to remove his gloves and had pitched them into a different corner from Argis' pile and his two swords immediately followed it in a graceful arc. He fussed with his cuirass straps as Argis sank back onto the bed and watch the elf work. Giving the wizard a small smile, the warrior pulled his shirt off, exposing his rippling torso.

To Ard, Argis looked like the epitome of archetypal masculinity. He was hairy without being overly hairy, muscular, scarred, and confident. His scarred features did not detract from his appearance, but rather lent them an air of fierceness. The wizard looked at the shirtless warrior and struggled all the harder with his straps, swearing under his breath in elvish.

With an easy grace the warrior rose from the bed and approached the struggling elf. He had hit the point where he knew what was coming and wasn't nervous. Gently, he finished unbuckling the wizard's cuirass and stepped back. The wizard quickly removed his belt as he stared at the warrior.

Enjoying the wizard's gaze, Argis sat back down on the bed and slipped his pants off. Sitting before the still-clothed wizard with only his loincloth keeping his modesty in check, Argis grinned as the wizard struggled to remove his own pants.

Gently massaging his own loins, the Nord watched as the wizard removed the last of his own armour and flung the boots and leather pants off to the side. The wizard wasted no time in pulling off his own shirt.

The elf was not nearly as muscular as Argis, nor was he as hairy, but the sight of his lithe body made the Nord's fingers and hand work faster. There was a definite erection building under the loincloth. As soon as the wizard stripped down to his own loincloth he approached the reclining warrior. With a small tug of a knot, Argis opened his loincloth and revealed his now fully erect dick. Gently stroking himself, he looked to the wizard for a reaction.

"Gods, Argis. You're a horse," said the wizard in a low voice full of appreciation.

Argis enjoyed exhibiting his thick, ten inch cock and knew the effect his completely revealed body was having on the Altmer. He knew that his rock-solid thighs nicely bracketed the large genitals that lay between them and he softly said, "Let's see what you've got, love."

Tugging his own loin cloth off, the wizard chuckled slightly as he sank down onto the bed next to the warrior, muttering, "Oh nothing as grand as yours." Argis saw that the wizard spoke the truth. The golden erection was only eight inches long and slightly thinner than the warrior's but Argis loved it anyway.

The wizard gently touched the warrior's penis, stroking it slightly, and softly asked, "So, who's going where?"

The Nord massaged his own balls and replied, "I'm good in either position, so it's up to you."

Hesitatingly slightly, the elf said, "I've never really been taken up there..."

"Then I would be honoured to receive the Dragonborn's seed," said Argis with a great deal of gravity.

With a small smile, Ardanthis leaned in to kiss Argis. He said in a soft voice, "In here, I am not dragonborn and you are not a housecarl. We simply are." He then slowly ran his tongue down Argis' chest, diverting to go over a hard nipple, as he made his way to the warrior's cock.

With an easy grace, the wizard bent over Argis' groin and ran his tongue along the underside of the blonde's heavy erection before taking the tip in his mouth. Argis groaned in satisfaction and closed his eyes as the elf gradually took the whole thing in his mouth. Ard began to bob up and down vigorously, having flattened his cheeks against the Nord's erection. The Nord grunted in pleasure as the elf's tongue swirled over the head of his penis.

He placed a gentle hand on the back of Ardanthis' head, quietly urging the elf to take it all with each bob. Complying, the wizard increased the pace of his bobbing and took it in until his nose pressed against the warrior's groin. Argis began to moan in pleasure as he gave small, involuntary bucks of his hips. He gradually fell into a rhythm with the elf and gave tiny thrusts to match the wizard's bobbing.

The excitement of fulfilling what his heart had wanted for a long time brought Argis to the brink faster than normal. Knowing he was going to bottom for his thane, the Nord didn't hold back his first orgasm of the night.

He began to thrust into the wizard's mouth faster, and eventually held the Altmer's head still so he could better thrust into it. He clenched his eyes shut, giving out a small moan of ecstasy as he shot hot, milky cum down the wizard's throat.

The wizard gagged for a moment before swallowing and riding out the warrior's last few thrusts. Withdrawing from the High Elf's mouth, the Nord stroked his face and murmured his thanks. Climbing further up onto the bed, Argis put his hands on either side of the pillow and got to his knees. "I'm ready love," he said in a slightly hoarse voice.

Argis could feel the elf get behind him on the bed and took a deep breath in and let it out. He tried to relax himself to make Ard's entrance less painful, but the excitement of this wish fulfillment was too much for him. It was not just sex with another man, but sex with _his_ man, _his_ husband and love. The wizard did not immediately begin preparing Argis, but soothingly let his hands wander and massage the warrior. His hands explored Argis' thighs, his hanging genitals, and the ripple of his abs before sweeping back up to his ass.

A penetrating finger suddenly reminded the warrior of the importance of relaxing and he blew out the breath he didn't realize he had been holding. The invading finger slid into the warrior and brushed along the walls of Argis' tight passage. Argis let out a wanton groan as the elf's finger grazed his prostate. Gently massaging it for a moment, the thane pulled his finger out. Ard murmured soothing encouragement as he slid two fingers into the housecarl and scissored the warrior.

The warrior felt something warm and wet – lube – being gently massaged into his rectum. The wizard asked, "Are you ready?" and the anticipation could clearly be heard in his voice. Argis nodded, feeling a strange sort of excitement at being able to finally be with Ardanthis in this way.

He gasped slightly as the head of the wizard's cock slipped into him. The wizard let Argis adjust to his cock before he began to slowly move in and out of the housecarl. Argis gave a breathy moan of pleasure as the wizard hit that pleasure giving bundle of nerves that lay deep inside of him. He quickly established a rhythm with the wizard, pushing back into every thrust.

The spellcaster's hands sat on the warrior's hips, but they gradually began to move and slip over the warrior's body. Argis enjoyed the accompanying sensations when coupled with the steady thrusts. He had long since closed his eyes and let his head hang, enjoying the sensations the wizard was giving to him. His brow furrowed for a moment as he realized that he still felt warmth even after his husband's hands had moved. He opened his eyes and cast a glance over his shoulder and saw Ard's hand aglow with the golden light that had so often healed him. Meeting his gaze, Ardanthis' hands flared to a new radiance and the warrior felt a rush of euphoric energy sweep through him. He could distinctly feel the two sources of that energy, Ardanthis' hands, moving around his body. He felt one of them slide underneath him and grip his erect-again dick and smoothly pump it.

The flow of magical energy and dual stimulations were too much for the warrior and with a shuddering cry he disgorged another torrent of cum.

He closed his eyes again, overwhelmed with all of his body being overwhelmed by pleasure. Losing track of time with the smooth rhythm of their lovemaking, he was surprised to feel the elf's thrusts suddenly get more forceful and energetic. He understood why though, as a moment later as a wet warmth filled him. The wizard's cum was accompanied by a massive burst of golden light which painted a sunrise behind Argis' closed eyes. He knew time had passed, but he wasn't sure how much. He has lost his sense of how much in the warm and glowing sensations, though.

He quickly reached one hand to his own cock as the wizard slowed down and stroked himself. He was so close to completion that he pushed himself over the edge, but his body was spent and only a dribble of cum came out of his wildly twitching dick.

Slipping out of Argis with a happy sigh, the wizard slid off the bed and stood on shaky legs. Argis himself moved slowly, gently testing his muscles and expecting to find them stiff, but he was pleasantly surprised to find he felt little pain at all. He sighed slightly as he felt warm cum ooze out of his ass and he said, "That was...amazing, love."

The wizard staggered over to a spare blanket to the side. He gently pulled the big Nord off the bed and threw the new blanket over the wet spot Argis had created and then sank down onto the bed, tugging the warrior down too. They were both sweaty and exhausted, but joyous.

"I love you, Argis," said the elf with an emphatic simplicity.

The housecarl ran a hand along the wizard's damp locks, "And I love you."

Their words were not the dramatic poetry of bard's tales, but a declaration of the simple love between two individuals.


	14. Chapter 14

AN: This chapter has a great deal of violence and graphic bloodshed, please be warned.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The morning light filtered through a nearby window, which was quite dirty. Despite the grime that tinted the window, the warm sunlight painted a trail of golden light along the floor. The two lovers on the bed slowly woke up to this warmth and light, for they were in no rush. The elf spoke softly as he stared up at the ceiling, "I think we should go somewhere else for a while, somewhere nice. I don't want to go straight back to Markarth yet." Argis could hear the implication behind the words. Ardanthis did not want to go back to being a thane quite yet. Ard hesitated a moment, gnawing slightly on his lower lip, "But with the war and the dragons, finding such a place may be difficult."

He felt Argis shrug his broad shoulders, and then heard the Nord's deep voice say, "Skyrim is a big place. If you wanted something more rural and quiet there are many, many small towns scattered around the land. Though we can handle most anything, there are few places safe enough for such an excursion. Perhaps we should simply visit another hold, like Dawnstar or Whiterun. I hear that there is a great tree in Whiterun which is beautiful."

"Not Whiterun, no. I've heard that, uh, the city is-" stammered out the wizard, but his explanation was cut short by someone banging on the door.

The banging continued a moment longer before a male voice called out, "Please open the door, my lord! I have a message for you."

Argis sighed and rose, still nude, off the bed. He turned back to the wizard as the banging recommenced and said in a low voice, "I'll see what he wants." Sighing, he pulled a folded blanket off of the nearby, small table and draped it around his waist.

The warrior suddenly pulled open the door and loomed over a scrawny young man, whose hand was still positioned to knock. Gawking up at the shirtless, scarred warrior Nord, the courier stammered out, "I-I have a message for-for the dragonborn."

"Then you can give it to me," said Argis in his coldest housecarl's voice. He was not pleased at being roused from bed for business.

Visibly steeling himself, the young man stated in a wavering voice, "I was told this message was for the dragonborn only and not for anyone else. The innkeeper told me that he had lodgings in this room and I _must_ see him."

Argis opened his mouth to give an angry retort when he felt a hand on his shoulder and Ardanthis gently urged him back. The wizard had evidently taken advantage of Argis' exchange with the courier and had quickly thrown on his robe, making him appropriately clothed for conversation. Stepping forward, in between the two men, Ard extended his hand for the folded letter that the other man was holding. He gave a soft smile and said, "I am the dragonborn you seek. I appreciate you protecting the privacy of the letter as you were entrusted with it. Now then, give me my letter."

The courier's eyes widened in shock, "_You're_ the dragonborn? But- but you're a Thalmor!"

Ard dropped all pretentions of politeness and his voice took on an acidic edge as he said, "I am not a Thalmor. I am a High Elf, yes, but no Thalmor. I hope you can tell us apart – or are you one of those too stupid to see the difference? You _will_ give me my letter now unless you wish to tell whoever sent you why the letter was not delivered as agreed upon."

The courier was still stammering in shock and he thoughtlessly asked out loud to himself, "But-but the Thalmor killed so many Nords and Imperials! Why would the General trust one-?"

Upon hearing "General" Ardanthis lunged forward and slammed the courier against the wall. His hand snaked up and gripped the man's skinny throat and he hissed into his face, "General Tullius trusts me because I've killed more dragons than you've ever seen. I am trusted because, unlike you, the General understands my value to preserving Skyrim against the Thalmor's influence. He understands how I will be able to help him and everyone avoiding the leash of the Dominion."

Argis bent over and picked up the letter the courier had been holding. It had fluttered to the floor when Ardanthis had bodily forced the skinny man back. He looked up at the wizard who still gripped the courier's throat and said softly, "I think he's learned his lesson, love. He's going to turn blue soon if you keep gripping his throat like that." Despite his words, Argis admired the wizard in that moment. He was lithe, lethal, and concentrated on the person in front of him. It reminded the Nord of a very well-honed knife and he knew that the wizard could easily ignite his hand and kill the terrified looking courier.

The Altmer smoothly eased back from the courier who didn't even look at the note Argis held as he ran out of the inn. Taking in a single deep breath, the wizard blew it out and looked towards where the courier had fled. He muttered softly, "I wish I hadn't done that. Now I've just confirmed everything he ever thought about me." He turned to the warrior who gave him the letter before withdrawing into the room and began to dress. Quickly following him into the room, the wizard closed the door and broke the seal on the letter. His eyes widened in shock as he read it over twice.

Argis had quickly washed himself before donning his pants and shirt. He paused in his routine to look curiously at the wizard. "What's wrong?" he asked with concern.

Handing him the letter without a word, Ardanthis pulled off his robe and quickly began to dress in his armour. Argis looked down at the letter nervously, disliking the silence and gravity that had descended over their room. His understood the wizard's trepidation as he read, "Dragonborn, it is urgent that you head to Windhelm. We are in position to begin its siege and we wait mostly on your presence. I have sent couriers to every major city within each hold in the hopes that one of them will find you. Please hurry." The letter was signed by General Tullius himself.

Argis refolded the letter and immediately headed for his armour, sighing softly at the lost time they could have spent together.

Ardanthis was already slipping his cuirass and leather pants on and Argis hurried to catch up to his thane. An idea suddenly struck the housecarl and he asked, "Did you really mean what you said to the courier? About killing dragons."

The wizard nodded absent mindedly, "I'm surprised that Markarth and the surrounding territories haven't seen more of them, but yes, I have slain my share."

Argis hadn't even seen a dragon and was quietly awed by the fact that his husband had actually _killed_ the mythical creatures. He knew that they had re-emerged, but he had never seen any yet.

Giving a small shrug as he finished lacing up his boots, the wizard added, "Once you get used to their patterns they aren't that terrifying. Most of them probably expect us mortals to cower before them like in ages past, if you believe the history books that is." Argis nodded dumbly at the nonchalance shown to dragon slaying. With a gusty sigh and a rueful grin, the wizard quickly added, "But I'm still terrified every time I see one. They truly are beautiful but so, so deadly."

They quickly finished arming themselves since they were long familiar with the quirks of their individual armour sets. Ardanthis looked back at the soiled bed, wincing slightly, he muttered, "Someone's going to have to clean that up." He hurried back over to the night table and left a few septims on the night table for whatever person had to change the bedding.

They hurried down the stairs and out of the bar after informing the innkeeper that they did not intend to stay for another night. Breaking into the sunlit streets the pair headed quickly for the gates. The circular market in the center of the city was already bustling with loud people, but they sped past the vendors to the stables that lay outside the gates.

Quickly looking around the quiet stables, they saw no available wagons. Ardanthis swore softly and angrily as he desperately searched for someone who could take him and his housecarl to Windhelm. He spied a wagon with no driver or horse and made his way to a nearby stable hand who was mucking out a stall.

He hailed the boy and asked, "Does that wagon over there have a team and driver?"

Eyeing him with a great deal of suspicion, the boy nodded and said, "They'll be ready to work soon. Why?"

Grinning in relief the elf replied, "I need to get to Windhelm quickly. Can you show me where the driver is?"

"Well, he's not here right now but – oh! There he is!" exclaimed the youth and pointed a finger at a dark haired man who was making his way down to the stables. Rushing out, the boy shouted, "Brem! There're some people to see you here!"

The driver, Brem, looked worriedly at the Altmer and said, "I haven't done anything."

Too hopeful to be annoyed at the Nord's assumption, Ard replied, "I'm not with the Thalmor. I need to get to Windhelm quickly and I'll pay twice your usual rate if you'll take me before noon."

Brem's eyes lit up with greed and he nodded eagerly. Bellowing a few quick instructions to the young stable hand, his horses were quickly set in their traces and the two men boarded the cart. With a crack of his reins, the driver had the team rumbling and clattering down the road to Windhelm.

Ardanthis pitied anything that tried to stop them from making their way to the Stormcloak capitol as he was prepared to brook no interference. He glanced at Argis, noticing how the housecarl's gaze stayed out over the horizon and not within the cart. Nudging his gently with his elbow, Ard asked, "How...how are you feeling about this? I know you told me that Ulfric did a lot for you, but this siege will only end with Ulfric dead or captured for execution."

Stirring slightly at the contact the Nord smiled at his husband briefly before giving a frustrated sigh. He returned his gaze to the landscape rolling by and said softly, "I don't want to do it. The last thing I want to do is kill him. Do you know how I still remember him? I remember him as a commander standing against the Forsworn and fighting to free Markarth from their grip. I don't see him as the rebel tyrant or the usurper or any of the other names applied to him. I still see him as that person from so long ago and not whatever he is now. That's why I don't want to be here, because our success means destroying that part of me from so long ago."

Ardanthis nodded slowly as the cart continued to make its way along the road. He hesitantly asked, "But you see how necessary his death is though, don't you? Without him we can restore order and safety to Skyrim. The Thalmor will be unable to threaten either the Imperials or the Nords when they are united."

His gaze still lingering on the trees and hills rolling by, the housecarl replied, "I know that. One part me knows that the Thalmor can only be stopped this way, but... but it's still hard to kill someone you looked up to most of your life."

With a sympathetic squeeze to the Nord's hand, Ard let the conversation end and the miles roll by in silence. The wizard understood how torn Argis must be and appreciated his loyalty all the more for it.

The journey to Windhelm was not a long one, but the anticipation of the fight gnawed at both of the cart's passengers. Ulfric would be at his most dangerous as he was backed into a corner with his most loyal supporters. The siege would not be a long, drawn out affair, but a quick attempt to break the city. This was going to be a short and brutal battle in the hopes that the city would be broken quickly by it. After all, the Imperials wanted to avoid damaging the value of the city as much as possible. There was little value in capturing a pile of rubble.

Argis glanced at the setting sun, but was confused by the way that the orange glow seemed to spread farther to the north than it should. Looking around he realized how close to the city they were and then he realized why the sunset confused him. To the north he wasn't seeing the sun's light but the lurid glow of flames. It appeared that the siege was already underway. A south-bound gust of wind brought the scent of smoke to everyone in the cart.

The horses snorted nervously and Brem nervously asked, "What's going on at Windhelm?"

"It's under attack by Imperial forces," said the wizard simply.

Arrayed around the shores of the water, which curved in front of Windhelm, was a large army. It seemed that General Tullius had brought everything he had against the city in a final gamble. Brem stopped the cart and looked back at the two passengers, urgently saying, "I'm not going further than this. I'm not riding into a siege, so give me my pay now."

Being close enough to the attacker's camp, Ard didn't quibble with the man's demand. He knew that he hadn't been forthcoming with the driver, who might not have taken the job had he known he was headed into a conflict. Sharply turning the cart around after receiving his pay, Brem raced away from the burning city as his passengers raced towards it.

They were stopped at the perimeter by a man dressed in Imperial armour. Looking them over suspiciously, he barked, "Halt! Who are you and what are you doing here? Can't you see the city is under siege?"

Drawing himself up, the Altmer replied, "I am the dragonborn and I am here to help you end the reign of Ulfric Stormcloak. I have been invited here by General Tullius himself." He handed the guard the letter the courier had given him. Quickly reading it over, the watchman nodded hesitantly and beckoned them into the camp. As they approached the general's tent, another volley of flaming projectiles was lobbed over the walls of the city. Smoke from the besieged city snaked throughout the camp.

Hunched over a city map, Legate Rikke stood beside General Tullius, who was giving instructions to a constant flow of messenger who immediately ran out of the tent to deliver the messages they had been given. Quietly entering the tent, Argis and Ardanthis stood to the side. As the latest messenger left, Tullius looked up and saw the two men. "You're here earlier than expected. This is good, we can press our advantage now before they have more time to fortify their defences," said the General in an appraising voice.

Beckoning them to follow him, he quickly snagged a passing messenger and muttered something to him before sending him off. He looked back at the two behind him and asked, "I'm going to need you both able to fight tonight. I know you've had a long journey to get here, but you'll need to make do." He stopped off at another tent and spoke in a low voice to the man there, and the soldier hustled to a chest in the back of the tent and returned with two small bottles filled with a green fluid. "I trust you know what these are, so drink up. We need you alert and aware for when we take the city," stated the general in a tone that would not accept refusal. Muttering more to himself than any other person, Tullius said, "We're lucky. The Argonians and Dunmer don't seem to be willing to fight for Ulfric, not that that's surprising, but it makes things easier."

Popping the corks that topped the bottles, the two guzzled down the magical potions and immediately felt invigorated. The renewing force of the potion swept away the exhaustion that had gradually settled on the new arrivals and they quickly caught up with the general. Looking around, they realized that the whole camp was moving around them. People ran in every direction or assembled in a seemingly random madness.

Standing at the start of the bridge, the general looked at the massive gates of the city. He cast a glance back at the army behind him, which had largely assembled into formation, and nodded in approval. The _creak_ and _whump_ of the catapults firing heralded another barrage, but not all of the shots were directed at the city's interior. Four large boulders slammed into the massive gates, splintering them. Raising his hand, the general dropped it sharply and the army behind him poured forward around him.

Argis and his thane settled close to the general as the first wave of assaulters rushed passed them. Drawing his own sword, the general followed his troops at a light jog.

Ard was surprised that such an older and well-respected man would head into combat, but understood the importance of the General's presence. Following after the leader of the Imperial forces in Skyrim, the pair could hear the next wave of attackers following behind them.

Bursting into the burning city, Argis was struck by the magnitude of the battle. The entire district was a mass of fighting soldiers and clanging metal. Shouting to be heard above the noise, Tullius said, "We have to reach the Palace quickly and end this now. The Stormcloaks will concede once their leader is dead."

Normally, they would have run straight for the palace, but the way was choked with warriors and debris. The combatants themselves would not have been an impediment usually, but the boulders had knocked chunks of buildings into the path, which effectively blocked the route.

Swearing loudly, Tullius lead a small squad down a side path. Drawing his sword, he impaled a surprised Stormcloak who rounded the corner in an effort to join the battle. Stepping over the spreading pool of blood, the General scowled as four more soldiers rounded the bend. The Stormcloaks began to charge, but we stunned by a dazzling fireball which exploded amidst them. It was more light than heat and inflicted minimal damage, but it was enough to spoil their charge. Panicking slightly as they tried to extinguish burning clothes, the rebels were quickly overwhelmed and slaughtered.

Racing forward, the group entered into an area of relative calm. The grand, old houses that occupied this district were largely unaffected by the chaos around them. Their iron grates would be no impediment to an invading army, but they were closed as if they mattered. Ardanthis looked at General Tullius with a new appreciation. The man was shrewd enough to avoid attacking the nobles he would depend on to keep order later.

They quickly swerved off away those houses down another narrow alley. As they rounded the corner, one of the soldiers screamed and collapsed as three arrows punched through his leather armour. They rapidly retreated around the corner to avoid sharing the soldier's fate. Peering around the corner cautiously, the general quickly pulled back and hissed, "Three archers behind a barricade. Argis, I need-"

"No," quickly interjected the wizard, recalling how Argis' shield had failed to protect him before. He continued, "I will step out, let my ward absorb the bolts, Shout at them, and then everyone else will charge them before they can recover."

Tullius clearly did not want to risk his prized asset, but he nodded reluctantly. Draw a deep breath, the wizard stepped out from around the corner, and the air rippled before him as an arcane barrier snapped into existence. Arrows slammed into the magical barrier and bounced off harmlessly. Sucking in a deep breath, the wizard boomed, "FUS RO DAH!" and a kinetic wave blew the archers back. Letting his ward drop, the wizard drew his swords and joined the rush of bodies hacking at the barrier.

The wooden barricade was clearly put together at the last moment and the shoddy workmanship showed in how it fell to pieces with a few blows. Dazed Stormcloaks attempted to rise to their feet but with a few quick sword swipes they fell back to the ground, their blood drenching the earth. With a regretful glance back at the fallen soldier, the group pressed onward.

The main army provided a strong distraction and almost all of the soldiers from both sides were diverted to there. Confidently leading the group down the streets and alleyways of the city, the general encountered no other resistance along the way. In a short while, they were in front of the palace's cold front. The great brazier that sat before the palace still burned, but its light was lost in the greater wash of the flame from the city. Walking calmly but quickly up to the door to the palace, Tullius pushed it open.

The palace's hall reflected a much more simple style from centuries past. It was well-lit, but cold. The large banquet table, bare of food and place settings, dominated the room but beyond that the throne loomed over the table. Upon that imposing seat the Jarl of Windhelm, Ulfric Stormcloak himself, sat. Next to him, standing in a combat ready posture with his warhammer drawn, was Galmar Stonefist.

"Secure the doors and guard them. Do _not_ let anyone else in," commanded the general and his troops scurried to obey. The legate, general, dragonborn, and housecarl slowly approached the throne where Ulfric reclined casually.

Argis flicked his gaze between Tullius and Ulfric. Tullius seemed to be all fire and energy now that the quarry he had been chasing for so long lay before him. Ulfric, by contrast, was cold and calm. He sat dispassionately on his throne and made his own inspection of the four invaders who approached him. Argis wondered if the Jarl recognized him from before and winced at the possibility. To him, it felt like Ulfric's gaze lingered on him longer than the others, but it could have just been his imagination.

The Jarl's sharp features barely twitched as he looked at the four people assembled before him. His soft, deep voice rang out, "So you've finally made to me. I take it you are here for my head."

Tullius stepped forward and Galmar shuffled forward in response. The general eyed the warrior and stopped his advance before turning back to Ulfric and calling out, "Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm, I am here to arrest you for treason against the Empire. You can choose to come peacefully to an execution or be killed now."

A faint smile crossed the features of the Jarl before they settled back into their controlled expression, with the words, "You don't not leave me much of a choice then, do you?"

"Your city burns around you. Spare the lives of your men and the citizens who are desperately trying to put out fires and hide from soldiers – give yourself up!" cried Tullius.

The Jarl rose from his throne and scowled down at the general, "I will _never_ give myself up. I am a true son of Skyrim, and I am no coward. I fight for the hope that Skyrim can become great like it once was. I will not let it become a province of the Imperials, or a slave of the Altmer," he glanced at Ardanthis with those last words before he continued, "Skyrim deserves to be free of the yoke of oppressors, especially when the oppressors themselves cower before the elves. The Nord people will never truly be cowed by the Empire or the Dominion."

Shaking his head Tullius responded with, "These goals are yours alone and you force them on the people you lord over. Many Nords were happy to be a part of the Empire and to fight with the Imperials against the Dominion-"

"You _abandoned_ us when your city was threatened," interrupted the Jarl. His gaze was so cold that it gave the wizard the image of a tundra wind blowing.

The general angrily countered, "I am not here to debate history with you. Do you surrender?"

The Jarl bellowed, "NEVER!" before unleashing a Shout directly at the General. The blast of sound threw the general and the legate back but Ardanthis, who was also caught in the blast, merely staggered. Ulfric gave him an appraising glance, "Interesting, dragonborn."

Ardanthis and Argis drew their swords and glanced at the incapacitated Imperial army officers, who only stirred without showing signs of recovering soon. The thane of Markarth slowly approached the Jarl of Windhelm in a combative posture, and Argis moved to challenge the other housecarl. Ulfric drew his own sword and stepped off the dais that supported his throne, softly saying, "Know dragonborn, that whoever falls this day will be forever remembered in song."

Ardanthis didn't verbally reply to Ulfric's words, but replied with a scissoring strike aimed at the Jarl's neck. Ducking back, Ulfric avoided the attack before responding with a jab of his own.

The bear fur wearing housecarl rushed Argis with a roar and swung his hammer in a large arc. Argis leapt back, feel the movement of the air displaced by the moving hammer. He swore under his breath as he realized that his shield would be next to useless against the kind of force behind that hammer. At the best, it would crumple like paper and deflect the attack, but more than likely his arm would also break under the assault.

Sitting lightly on the balls of his feet, he watched Galmar's cautious approach. The other housecarl wasn't stupid, and knew that he lacked defensive power and so measured his swings carefully. Argis knew that his defence was useless against the overwhelming force of the other's hammer, and Galmar knew that his swings left him vulnerable. Unlike the loudly and vicious clanging coming from the other two fighters, the housecarls' fight was much quieter.

Argis' sword flicked out at Galmars' left hand and the other warrior shifting slightly and used the haft to parry the strike. He quickly turned the hammer and used the head to jab at Argis, who positioned his sword to strike at Galmar's wrist. The bearskin wearing warrior pulled his weapon back with a fierce grunt.

This battle of little jabs and cautious attacks continued and each housecarl was growing more desperate to land a deciding blow. The loud clanging and ragged shouts of the other two swordsmen was a clarion call to both Argis and Galmar that help was need _now_.

Gradually, the two housecarls began to risk more in their careful fight and landed strikes on each other. Argis limped slightly, his left leg having taken a glancing shot from Glamar's hammer. The Stormcloak housecarl had paid for that strike though, and he constantly readjusted his grip on his hammer as blood ran from a gash on his arm to the haft of the weapon, slicking it with crimson. The clanging from the elf and Jarl had slowed somewhat and their heavy breathing could be heard by their housecarls.

Argis and Galmar were still engaged in their watchful battle when a sudden scream from the other pair of fighters distracted them for a moment. Looking over they saw Ulfric's overhand chop caught on the elf's right sword while his left sword bit into the Jarl's thigh to the bone. With a sucking noise, the wizard pulled his sword out and whirled away.

"NO!" screamed Galmar and he began to race towards the distracted thane who was staring down at the bleeding Jarl. Argis capitalized on Galmar's distraction and quickly lashed out with his sword out. It slid through the bear fur armour and the other housecarl collapsed to the floor with a wet scream. Galmar's gaze only lingered on Ulfric and a look of despair crossed his features. Argis sympathized with the fallen warrior for he knew the exact feeling of complete failure that must be wracking Galmar.

A groan from the legate drew Argis' attention to the fallen Imperial forces officers. Rushing over to their prone bodies, the blonde housecarl gently shook the legate and general to wakefulness. Rising to his feet, the general staggered over to the kneeling and heavily bleeding Jarl. He snarled out, "Ulfric Stormcloak, your reign has ended." He drew his sword and pulled it back for the killing blow.

"Wait," said Ulfric in a voice tight with pain and weak with blood loss, "let the dragonborn be the one to do it. It will make for a better song."

Looking to the Altmer, the general nodded, "You were once a great man, Ulfric. I'll honour your last request. Whether the dragonborn does or doesn't is up to him though."

The Jarl tried to rise, but failed to. On his knees before a High Elf he glared up one final time as his executioner. "It's a cruel twist of fate. We were both slated to be executed in Helgen, but it had appeared that we had both escaped that fate. Truly, only you managed to avoid it while I merely delayed it." He looked at Tullius, "At the least I have a more honourable executioner than what Helgen would have given me." Looking direction at Argis, Ulfric smiled slightly and said, "Argis the Bulwark, I did not expect to have you help to bring me down. You once knew what it meant to be a Nord, remember it some day." He looked down and stilled for a moment. "Finish it," he said, a trace of his usual composure re-entering his voice as he looked up at the Altmer and met his gaze.

Looking down at the kneeling Jarl, the wizard crossed his swords and placed the ends on either side of his opponent's neck and softly said, "You were and honourable foe, and you died for what you thought was right. There is no better cause to die for."

Ulfric looked completely calm as the elf swept his swords apart, neatly beheading the leader of the Stormcloak rebellion. Argis was captured by the surreal feeling that overcame him as he watched the other man's head separate from his shoulders. He absently watched the crimson droplets fly through the air and seemingly in slow motion. As Ulfric's head hit the ground, he snapped his attention back to the Jarl's neck which pulsed copious amounts of blood before the body fell on its side with a soft thud. Between Galmar and Ulfric, the throne room seemed to be washed with blood.

Galmar gave a few despairing gurgles which caused pink froth to collect around his mouth before he too expired. Argis looked down at the fallen housecarl, knowing that the man had passed in the depths of despair. His Jarl had died before him and he had failed to save Ulfric.

"It's over at last," said Tullius in an exhausted voice. One of the soldiers who had been barring the door suddenly screamed as a span of steel emerged from his body and a side door burst open as Stormcloak soldiers poured through with powerful shouts. Argis raised his sword and shield while Ardanthis dropped his bloody swords as his hands burst into flame. The men piled in, but immediately stopped as they caught sight of the Jarl's decapitated form.

An unknown soldier cried out with despair, "Ulfric Stormcloak has fallen!" The men who had charged in so boldly before now wavered in their courage. They began to back out as the news of their leader's demise spread back through the others behind them. Like a tide, they retreated out of the room.

The general marched to the doors to the palace and threw aside the bar that had been blocking them. Pushing open the doors, he was met by a multitude of Imperial soldiers who looked up at the sudden appearance of their leader. "Ulfric Stormcloak has fallen to the blades of the dragonborn today! For the Empire!" he roared in a triumphant voice. The mass of soldiers before him cheered wildly and many ran off to spread the news to their compatriots. He knew that most of the Stormcloak soldiers would vanish when they found out their cause was lost.

Ardanthis was still in the throne room. He had cleaned his swords on a cloth he carried with him, unwilling to clean his weapons on his opponents' clothes. He could not bring himself to treat their bodies so disdainfully. The general hailed him and gripped the elf's arm with a wide grin and the words, "Don't leave the city just yet, my friend. I suspect that we'll need you in peace as much as in war." The elf nodded numbly as he turned to Argis who limped towards him.

"Let-let me heal it, Argis," said the elf, visibly drained by the ordeal. He placed a golden glowing hand on Argis' wounded leg before turning his attention to the cuts he had suffered at the hands of the Jarl.

Too overwhelmed by Ulfric's last words to him, Argis stood quiescently and let the Altmer provide healing. Smiling shakily at the Nord, Ardanthis said, "Let's see to the survivors. I'm sure they could use another healer out there."


	15. Chapter 15

AN: I just thought to mention again that any and all reviews and criticism are always appreciated.

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Argis sighed gustily as Tullius walked away to help solidify the military's control over the city. He glanced over to the wizard next to him and nodded at Ardanthis' suggestion, "They definitely will need another healer, but I'm useless there. I'll help with the fires then..." He trailed off hesitantly, wordlessly expressing how he did not want to separate from his thane.

Giving his arm a reassuring squeeze, Ardanthis said softly, "We're both going to have to do what we can to help this city. I'll be alright, Argis."

The housecarl didn't look pleased but accepted his thane's words hesitantly. He suddenly swept the elf into a fierce embrace before huskily saying, "Stay safe. The city isn't peaceful just yet."

With a small laugh Ardanthis returned the hug and said, "And what makes you think I can't handle whatever comes my way? Go on, Argis, I'll be fine."

Nodding hesitantly, the Nord departed and joined in the mass of soldiers working to extinguish the flames that had spread to some of the buildings. No one questioned Argis' presence or why he wasn't in the Imperial soldiers' uniform. Most of them assumed he was just another citizen who wanted to keep his city from burning down to ash for there were many such soldiers who emerged once the fighting stopped.

Thankfully, the city was built mostly of stone making the fire less likely to spread. Many of the larger homes were made of wood, which was a concern, but a heavy snow began to fall. Much to the delight of the conquerors and the citizens, the thick snow helped to extinguish the flames and prevented the fire from spreading.

A soot stained Argis made his way to the Candlehearth Hall as the combination of falling snow and exhaustion put off the efforts to extinguish the flames. He could feel the potion he had drunk earlier fading, its effects having reached their limit. The Hall was an inn in quieter times, but it had temporarily been converted to a makeshift hospital and place to leave the wounded. It was quickly filled with the worst of the wounded and other shops and locales were converted into places to hold the wounded.

The Nord blew out a worried sigh as he had never confirmed where he would meet back up with his love. He assumed that they would meet at the Candlehearth Hall, but he was having doubts now. Entering the large inn, he brushed the fallen snow off of his hair and armour not because the cold would bother him, it bothered no one of Nord blood, but to avoid dripping everywhere he went. He looked around the room and saw that the wounded had been efficiently laid out on cots, piles of fur, or even just the hay-strewn floor. He took all of this in with a sweep of his gaze, but it did not prepare for him for the smell that struck him a moment later. The charnel house reek that pervaded the inn struck the warrior like a blow. He had seen and smelled his share of gore and death, but it was so contained in this inn that it seemed overwhelming. He pitied the healers still moving between bleeding, moaning forms for they were trapped here by their duty. Breathing through his mouth he approached a young Imperial man who was replacing a bandage on a wounded soldier's arm. He quickly asked, "Have you seen a High Elf healer recently? He would likely be wearing leather armour."

Scowling up at Argis, the Imperial gave an exhausted sigh at being interrupted and then pointed to the door to the kitchen before turning back to his patient and pointedly ending the conversation.

Curiously, Argis headed for the kitchen and wondered what Ardanthis could be doing there. He entered slowly and saw the wizard hunched over a mortar and pestle with a large number of empty bottles next to him. "Ardanthis?" called the Nord in a soft voice as he approached the elf.

The Altmer looked up as his name was called and Argis could see the dark circles under his eyes, "Ah, Argis! I heard that the falling snow chased many of those putting out the fires in doors. I'm also glad that you managed to find me." He shook his head and laughed softly at himself, "Stupid me, I should have asked if you were fine or not – did you get singed by the flames?"

He shook his head in response, and added, "No, I'm fine. We were lucky – some of the Dark Elves came and helped with the fires, being so resistant to the heat they suffered little. We still worked to put out the fires, but you should have seen how easily they approached the worst blazes without fear. The fires are now mostly take care of, so I came to find you."

Giving Argis a tired and somewhat forced grin, the wizard said, "You can help me mix healing potions if you want something to do. I've exhausted my magic for now, so I'm making do with what I have left." He sternly eyed the warrior, "I hope you were paying attention when I taught you how to mix a potion to the proper consistency."

Argis shot a tired smile back as he picked up the mortar and pestle. Suddenly, the elf put his hand on Argis' and stopped him. Looking up in confusion the Nord saw the elf held two small vials of green liquid. "It won't last as long as the ones the general gave us, but it will do for a little while," stated the wizard before drinking down one vial and handing the other to Argis.

Drinking his own vial, the warrior was disappointed to find that he didn't get the same rush as from the first potion. His disappointment must have shown for the Altmer softly said, "A body gradually grows inured to their effects and usually has to rest before this effect dissipates."

Nodding grimly and determined to make whatever potions he could with the energy he had, Argis began to crush the herbs with gusto. He frequently paused to ask which plants to put together for there was a wide selection of ingredients but few of each. The elf very mechanically told him which ones to use, too tired to properly teach or tease.

They had filled well over half the bottles when Ardanthis called for a halt, saying, "We need to administer these potions to the wounded now. There's no good making all of them if no one drinks them."

Taking up a nearby satchel, the warrior carefully packed the small bottles filled with crimson liquid into it. Following the wizard into the main room of the inn and the charnel house smell, the Nord walked into one of the side rooms where several men lay. The scent of blood was particularly strong in this room and many of the dressings of the men were particularly drenched with blood.

"These men are the most critically injured," said the elf in a soft voice.

Looking over the wounded here, Argis could only nod and agree. Many of the men would not survive the night without additional treatment and must have been in agony. Only a few soft, breathy moans made it into the air though.

Continuing at Argis' nod, the wizard said, "I'm going to need you to help administer the potions. It's simple. Just gently pour the potion down their throats and make sure not a drop is wasted. You may have to gently massage their throats to get them to swallow. Normally, I would suggest we pour a bit on their wounds to help heal those directly, but I'm afraid of internal damage, so I want everything going down their throat."

Argis had rarely seen this professional aspect of his husband. This person wore the shape of his love, but was coldly clinical in his assessment. The housecarl understood the importance of this to the healing process, but it was still a strange thing to see.

Following the wizard's example, Argis took off his gauntlets and uncorked a bottle. He leaned over a man who looked like he was more cuts than solid body left and whispered, "I'm here to help you, but I just need you to drink this." Gently pouring the potion into the man's mouth and massaging his throat as instructed, Argis managed to coax the man into swallowing some of it. Suddenly, his patient coughed and sprayed blood and potion onto Argis' face. The warrior slowly leaned back and swore as he wiped his face. He returned to his patient and attempted to make the man drink and succeeded this time. Smoothly swallowing the potion in small sips, the wounded man began to breathe easier and his visible wounds closed at least partially.

Hurrying to his next patient, Argis managed to get this man to drink without getting spat up on. He watched in wonder as the arrow embedded in the man's gut slid out its wound and clattered on the floor. Ardanthis looked up sharply at the noise, but when he saw the source he gave Argis an approving nod.

The men within the room all eventually got a taste of the life saving concoctions and the two men stood at the door surveying the wounded. Ardanthis beckoned Argis back to the kitchen and said in a voice devoid of energy, "Just leave the bottles over with the other empties." Nodding, the housecarl held one of the bottles up to the low burning fire and noticed it looked clean. The potion seemed to drag itself out as one mass and didn't leave residue.

Leaning in a corner, the elf dragged exhausted eyes over the kitchen-turned-alchemy-lab and said, "We need to make-make more..."

Argis approached him and shook his head. His deep voice became soft as he said, "Not tonight, Ard. Not tonight. Even you need to rest some time, you know. Come on, let's get you out of that armour." Sleeping in armour often resulted in terrible chafing and a terrible night's sleep. The elf nodded and began to work on the straps holding it onto him, and Argis quickly helped him. Ard's fingers seemed to suddenly be too clumsy to properly get the armour off and Argis ended up doing most of the work. It suddenly struck Argis that just the night before he had been doing these same actions under _very_ different circumstances. This time around, there was no lust involved in the disrobing, just a strange feeling of helping to change a small child. Piling the elf's armour off to the side, Argis added more wood to the small fire in the kitchen hearth. His own armour was quickly removed and piled next to the elf's, but he kept his boots on for now. He looked back to the dragonborn and saw the elf slowly slump against the wall and slide down until he was sitting on the hard floor. Wincing at the sight, Argis hurried over to the healer's supplies and got two thick blankets and quickly returned to his exhausted thane.

He knew that whatever effects the stamina potions had given him had worn off and that he wasn't far behind his thane's level of exhaustion. The wizard had not had as much physically demanding training as the warrior, and so Argis knew he was able to last a little longer.

When he arrived back at the tired elf, he could see Ard's eyes were half closed and that the wizard was shivering slightly. The room was not particularly cold, which made Argis worry more for his thane. His symptoms were reminiscent of some sort of shock.

The kitchen itself was a small, windowless room with only one doorway which opened onto the main taproom of the inn. Argis was grateful for the confined nature of the room, for it made heating it up faster.

A cheerful blaze was soon crackling in the cook's fireplace, and Argis wrapped the two blankets around both himself and Ardanthis. He himself could have slept without issue if he had no blankets, but he worried that the elf might suffer from the cold. Worriedly gnawing his lip, he placed his arm around Ard's shoulders, sensing that the living contact and body heat might be more important as a comfort than the fire was as a source of warmth. He could feel the dragonborn lean against him, easing into sleep. Argis quickly followed him as the pungent scent of the crushed herbs warded off the reek of blood and violence.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

A particularly loud groan of pain roused Argis from his sleep. He slowly and stiffly tried to move away from Ardanthis so as not to wake the sleeping elf, but the slight motions stirred the other man to life.

With a slow stretch as he rose to his feet, the High Elf looked down at the still seated Nord. Smiling and crossing his arms, he said with mock sternness, "Come on, you've got to get up now as there are many more soldiers in need of our aid." He suddenly looked dejected for a moment and added in a much softer voice, "Many, many more soldiers."

"Not without breakfast," declared the housecarl authoritatively. Grinning at his husband's practicality, the Altmer acceded to Argis' order. He wouldn't sit idle, though, and began to crush herbs in preparations for making potions while the Nord fried whatever he could scrounge up in the surprisingly bare kitchen. As Argis cooked he eyed the wizard, looking for any trace of lingering damage from the last night. He nodded to himself, satisfied that Ard appeared to be completely recovered.

They ate quickly and without savouring it in order to get to their duties faster. Trying to soften the grim start to the morning, Argis clapped the wizard on his arm and gave him a grin before heading to his armour. "Let's get ready to save some lives," he threw over his shoulder.

The housecarl rapidly strapped on his armour, buckled on his sword, and slung his shield over his back before returning to the potions table. He looked to the wizard and saw him tugging on his last glove. Meeting the warrior's gaze, Ardanthis said, "I'll be right back." Argis was confused as the wizard slipped out of the kitchen, but he immediately understood when he heard the soft chimes and saw flares of golden light. Continuing to pound herbs, he mixed a few potions while he waited for his husband to return.

He didn't have to wait long as the High Elf soon re-entered the room and joined him at the table. Giving Ard a playful smile, Argis said, "Only with you would I go straight from a marriage to ending the Stormcloak rebellion. I wanted somewhere quiet to spend some time together, and I suppose this," he gestured to the room around them, "will do."

Neither man wanted to broach the enormity of the situation that lay outside their small inn turned hospital. There was too much death, loss, and devastation outside for them to want to begin to understand it right at that moment. Talking about it made it real to both of them, and they tried to deny the aftermath by making small talk about technique, herbs, and the places they'd like to visit. The location ranged from the Imperial City to seeing the Alik'r Desert's shining sands.

With an annoyed frown, Ardanthis interrupted the conversation and muttered softly, "Argis, I'm going to ask the other acolytes for more herbs and administer some of what we made already. Please finish the last of the potions for me." The Nord nodded and continued his mixing as the elf left and took several bottles with him.

A short while passed before the elf returned with empty bottles and empty handed of herbs. "They have nothing left?" asked the warrior, quickly drawing that conclusion from the lack of supplies and the wizard's grim expression. He had just finished cleaning the mortars, pestles, and other alchemic supplies they had used.

A deep sigh welled up and out of the wizard as he nodded at Argis and looked over the bottles of restorative potions. Without additional supplies, this was all they had left, and the amount suddenly seemed much smaller than it had before. Straightening his sagging shoulders, the Altmer said, "There's no use in misery. Help me patch up the last of the worst off soldiers so we can pitch in the city's reconstruction."

Bottles in hand, they left for the sickroom. Argis was duly impressed by how many of the beds had been cleared and how many of the remaining men were awake. The worst of the injured were clustered close to the warmth of the fireplace, making getting to all of them an easy task.

It was not long before the last ruby drop of vitality slid down one of the last injured throats. One man, badly wounded with a broken leg, was the last patient in critical condition. Carefully eyeing the mangled leg, Ardanthis laid his hands on the damaged limb and called up another flare of golden light. The _snap_ of the bone sliding together and into place was audible to all the nearby recovering soldiers. Drawing back as the man settled into a deeper, more comfortable sleep, the Altmer returned to the kitchen. The spent bottles sat neatly on the counter, looking like they were perfectly cleaned, and the freshly washed tools lay drying. After a brief discussion they decided it would be simpler to leave their packs in the kitchen and return there that night.

They left the Candlehearth Hall kitchen and began to walk out towards the street when a hand reached out and snagged Ardanthis' wrist. One of the wounded Nords who had sat up and regained consciousness had grabbed the elf's wrist to stop him. In a hesitant and gruff voice the man said, "I wanted to say thank you, elf. I never thought I'd owe my life to a High Elf, but when I took that arrow to the gut all I thought was that I was going to die for sure. It was a horrible, burning pain and you saved me. So...thank you." A soft chorus of agreement drifted out of the other men around him.

Ard was simply dumbstruck by the Nords' appreciation for his efforts. His every expectation had been that they would survive and hate him for making them owe their lives to him. He numbly mumbled, "You- you are welcome." He quickly walked away as the soldier released his arm and leaned back onto the bunched cloth that he was using as a pillow. Argis carefully noted the additional bounce in his thane's step as they departed the inn and stepped outside.

The area immediately surrounding the inn was free of structural damage, but the fiercest battles had happened here. Snow lay heavily on the ground and covered up the bloodstains that would have painted the ground a horrifying shade of red. The road to the Palace was the main focus of the reconstruction efforts and several Dunmer and Argonians worked among the Nords and Imperials. The newly appointed jarl of the city, Brunwulf Free-Winter, had apparently made a point of hiring workers from the Dumer and Argonians as a way of showing he was not just a different face on the same Stormcloak ideology.

An Imperial wizard in blue robes oversaw the movement of stone and debris that choked the path. Ardanthis hailed the man as he approached and asked, "Are you supervising the work here? If so, I'd like to offer our services to the effort."

The wizard looked the pair over before calmly asking, "You're that dragonborn, aren't you?" Ardanthis mentally sighed, a High Elf and Nord travelling together must be a distinctive pair.

Nodding, the Altmer replied, "I am, but how can we help this city recover?"

"Oh that's not for me to decide. The new Jarl wishes to see you _immediately_ in the Palace. I suggest that you head there now as he's been looking for you since the battle ended," responded the wizard. His gaze suddenly flicked to Argis and the warrior could tell this blue-robed Imperial was appraising his ability to haul materials. Quickly turning to his thane he asked, "I will accompany you, of course." The Imperial pursed his lips at the lost labourer when he saw the High Elf nod.

They wended their way through the narrow side roads of the city in an effort to find their way back to the Palace of Kings. Only getting lost once, they quickly arrived at the looming doors of the ancient structure. The brazier burned cheerfully in front of the Palace as if nothing had changed for it. A woman in ragged clothes, obviously homeless, held her hands before the blaze with a smile of comfort and ignored the passing pair.

The Imperial soldier who guarded the doors to the Palace seemed to instantly recognize them and ushered them in. Mentally sighing to himself, Ardanthis supposed that a High Elf and a Nord definitely _were_ a rather distinctive pair.

Entering into the Palace gave the housecarl a strange sense of déjà vu. The blood had been cleaned off of the floor and empty plates sat on the table, but the hall looked almost identical to how it had appeared during the siege. Argis almost expected to see Ulfric sitting coolly on the throne, but a bald headed man with a dark, bushy beard sat on the throne in his place.

A small table was set up next to the throne and a large stack of papers sat upon it. The jarl sitting on the throne sighed deeply as he signed off on whatever was written on the page. The sound of the pair's footsteps on the stone floor alerted the jarl to their presence. He glanced at them appraisingly from his throne for a moment before rising up off of it and descending from the dais.

He greeted them in a powerful voice with, "Ah. You must be the thane and housecarl from Markarth. Ardanthis and Argis, correct?"

"We are indeed, Jarl. I don't believe we've met before, though," cautiously replied Ardanthis.

Extending his hand towards the Altmer the jarl said, "I am Brunwulf Free-Winter, the new Jarl of Windhelm." He critically eyed the elf as they clasped hands, "I don't think I've ever heard your family name, you know."

Ardanthis gave the jarl a tight smile and said, "I left that behind on the Summerset Isles. I am simply Ardanthis now, my Jarl."

Sensing the thorny nature of his question, the jarl nodded and released the wizard's hand. "I want to make it abundantly clear that I am not Ulfric's spiritual successor. He was once an honourable man, but he lost his way. I want to ensure that the people of Windhelm understand things will be different," said the jarl with a mournful tone. He quickly continued, "And to that end I need a figure that most everyone can rally around. I have already made overtures to both the Dunmer and Argonian communities in Windhelm, but I do not think they easily trust a Nord in power. It would not be the first time that a jarl had mistreated them as a people."

Ardanthis arched an eyebrow at the jarl's words and asked, "I have seen Argonian and Dunmer workers already helping to clear the rubble, Jarl Free-Winter. Is that not a good sign?"

With a small shake of his head, the other man replied, "It's not the same. They're there for the money that I'm willing to pay them, and not for anything else. Even though I _do_ pay them a fair wage, I doubt they expect it to last. I want a more permanent marker of my willingness to cooperate with other races."

Argis gave a small smile that he quickly swallowed as he saw how the jarl danced around the central question. The wizard clearly saw it coming too, and patiently waited for the jarl to ask that central question. Unwittingly obliging the two men, Brunwulf stated, "I would like to offer you the position of thane within my new court if you'd have it. I know you are already familiar with the demands of the rank, and I believe you would help maintain order within the city. Windhelm is a city complicated by the three disparate cultures existing in it, and I believe that you would be best able to help unite, or at least quell disturbances between, these different factions." He gave them a small, sly smile before continuing, "It will, of course, require that you own a piece of property within the city. You will quickly become well known to the citizens of this hold, so the property is all that stands in your way."

Tilting his head to the side Ardanthis asked with a small, knowing smile, "And I assume that you have the ideal piece of property set out for purchase."

"Of course. There's a proud house called Hjerim. It escaped the siege completely unscathed, so it's ready to move into," Brunwulf continued with his grin persisting, "But it's barely furnished and has been unlived in for some time. Windhelm has some excellent craftsmen though, and can outfit your new home for a small price."

"Let's talk price then, Jarl," said the elf with a shrewd gaze levelled on the jarl.

The jarl's face suddenly seemed to shift into a very business-like demeanour as he said, "The basic house will run you twelve thousand gold and the other amenities will add to that."

Argis suddenly burst in, "That's a ridiculous price-"

"Easy, Argis," interrupted the thane, "The price is...actually quite cheap for a house of that size, but I do want to see what you can do for the property." He glanced back at his housecarl before continuing, "But first tell me why you're letting such a valuable home go for so little. We both know the city needs the money badly and you know I'm able and willing to pay more for Hjerim."

The jarl gave a small shrug as if undisturbed that he had this hole in his reasoning. He handed a long list to the elf and said, "Hjerim has sat vacant for a _long_ time and I'm more interested in moving it quickly. Windhelm needs money, but it also needs it quickly. Besides, we both know your real value isn't in what the Empire has already paid you but in what you can yet do for this city."

"Then we'll take the home and the amenities," said the elf with complete aplomb. Scanning over the page he nodded once before slipping the list into a pouch in his belt. He slipped a small piece of paper out of that same pouch and hastily wrote on it before handing it to the jarl, "That should cover it, correct?"

Quietly, Argis was stunned that Ardanthis had so quickly agreed to pay so much for the home. Mentally sighing, he supposed that the new position in such a turbulent city would allow them to become an influential part of the political landscape much more easily.

The warrior's musing was quickly interrupted by the jarl saying, "Of course, a new housecarl will be assigned to you." The jarl's gaze flicked to Argis before he continued, "As is customary with every individual rising to the position of thane."

Argis was surprised to see the jarl actually take him into consideration. Most jarls and thanes viewed housecarls as invisible and emotionless when dealing with others. He mentally jerked and realized that the jarl may not care about him as a housecarl, but as the dragonborn's husband. He definitely carried weight there.

"Another housecarl? Did you find someone trustworthy enough for this?" asked the Altmer with evident scepticism.

Nodding confidently, the jarl responded, "I have. He's a bit of an opportunist but has a background as a warrior. You might be interested to note that he fought in the war to retake Markarth from the Forsworn. Besides, with the city still calming down it's best to have as many guards as possible, right?"

Argis immediately perked up when he heard this, but quickly shrugged it off. Many people fought the Forsworn in those days, and it was unlikely that it was anyone he ever knew. Gods, the man could just be claiming to have fought there to increase his prestige or move upward.

Ardanthis' suspicious voice asked, "Why didn't he stay in Markarth then? I'm sure they could have used a skilled sword in the aftermath."

Brunwulf shrugged again, "Something about not enough work." He quickly continued on before either of the men before him could interrupt him again, "In any case, your furnishings and _new_ housecarl will be in Hjerim tomorrow." Fishing a key out of his pocket he tossed it to the wizard and climbed back up to his throne where he took resumed his seat. Smiling benignly at the pair, he said, "Feel free to see the home as it stands now. I think you will be pleased with your decision to pay for the improvements on it. Now, I must finish looking through these requests. I wish you both the best."

Nodding, they took the dismissal and left the Palace, leaving the jarl behind and hunched over his work. Walking out of the Palace of the Kings, they veered off down a narrow path and made their way towards Hjerim. The large house was situated amongst the other manors that had been untouched by the siege, and it felt like stepping into another world as they walked past the low fences. Almost everywhere else in the city there were buildings ravaged by fire and rubble was strewn in the streets, but among the homes of the rich it was as if no war had ended just the day before.

They had almost made it to the end of the street before reaching their new home. Everything within the fenced off property looked untouched, and the home seemed to be in remarkably good condition for being uninhabited. Ardanthis opened the lock on the door with the key that Brunwulf had given him and stepped inside. Argis could hear him mutter, "The lock was stiff – definitely unused."

The house lay cold and still around them. The few windows that did exist were covered in dust, dirt, and cobwebs and let in only the palest shreds of light. The hearth say bare of wood but covered in a soot. Most of the furniture lay clustered in a corner and was shrouded under its own thick layer of dust. The elf raised his hand and clenched it into a fist. As light began to seep between his fingers, he opened his hand and brilliant ball of light rose up to float over him. He slowly approached the furniture and gave a fallen over chair a gentle kick. He sniffed disdainfully at it before saying, "It might have once been a nice set of furniture, but the cold and damp have done it in. It's only good for kindling now."

Argis had already begun his exploration of the back of the house, where a small table and two dressers stood. "Love, can I get a little light over here?" he called out. In short order a ball of luminescence was glowing on the ceiling over his head and he took advantage of the light to look through the first of the dressers. "I've got a rotting shirt her and nothing else," he called out. The wizard cast a glance back at the housecarl, seeing that it was true, and returned to examining the rest of the furniture that lay in a jumbled mess.

Argis opened the second dresser and let out a gusty sigh, "Completely empty – except for the cobwebs." He turned to head towards Ardanthis when he stepped on something that rolled slightly under his weight. The warrior stumbled for a moment but caught himself on the dresser. He looked down at what had tripped him and picked up the broken chair leg. With a sigh, he tossed it back with the other furniture. He was about to continue onward but hesitated. Why hadn't the dresser even budged under his weight? He was a well-built Nord in full steel gear. The wooden dresser was heavy and well-made, but it should have moved under his sudden weight. He scrutinized the old piece carefully and tried to move it. It didn't budge. Noticing it was flush against the wall, he called out, "Ard, come here and take a look at this."

The elf hurried over and looked at the dresser and then back to Argis. "It's a dresser, Argis," he said dryly.

The Nord pulled hard at the dresser, which predictably didn't move. The elf suddenly looked intrigued and sheepishly avoided Argis' I-told-you-so gaze. "I think this is hiding something else behind it," said the Nord.

Nodding in agreement, the elf's light gently swung around and completely illuminated the wooden interior. Argis felt along the inside walls for a hidden trigger, but it was Ardanthis whose hand grazed a whorl in the wood. With a soft click, the back panel swung open and revealed a small room. Both men leapt back, and Argis quickly drew his sword. They eyed the darkness tensely, waiting for something to emerge, for a moment before the wizard quickly spun a light into to pitch black room. "Oh gods," the elf murmured, and Argis could only wordlessly agree.

The room's floor was covered in very old blood stains and a skeletal body was chained spread-eagled to a table. Argis carefully nudged the skull with his sword, ensuring that the body was really dead and would not reanimate. Blood stains seemed to coat the floor, and the still air held a residual stench of gore. A cauldron with bones and other bits that could have come from man or mer sat near the table. "Argis, keep your sword out. We're going to check the rest of the house and make sure that who- or whatever did this isn't still around," said the wizard in a low voice.

They left the scene of long past horror and carefully scanned the main room. The wizard gripped one of his blades in one fist and his other hand scintillated softly. His light still obediently following him, but the elf quickly illuminated the entire main room with a soft white light. Satisfied that the floor was safe, they approached the kitchen. Another ball of light quickly illuminated that, revealing it to be empty of any beings.

With nowhere else to go on this floor, both of the men warily eyed the stairs that led up into the darkness. A sphere of cool light shot from the wizard's hand and up the stairs until it hit the far wall and lit up the spacious and empty first half of the top floor. Two dark doorways stood at the far end of the house. Argis eyed the darkness carefully, watching for assassins or undead to shamble out of it. Those two doors must lead to the bedrooms, he thought.

Another glowing light ball landed on the floor between the two rooms, and warrior and wizard braced for an attack. Nothing seemed to be provoked by the light, so they cautiously slipped forward. A short ways before the doorways, they hesitated to do a countdown. Then, with a deep breath, they each burst into one of the rooms.

Argis looked around the small, confined room and saw it was empty. "Clear!" he shouted before rushing over to the main bedroom.

Already well-lit by the wizard, the main bedroom stood empty as well. Only an old bed with mouldering coverlets sat towards the far side of the room. A careful inspection of the room revealed nothing else. Still on edge, the two quickly left the house and locked the door behind them. In a voice as cold as a tundra wind the elf said, "We are going to go back to the good jarl and ask him about _why_ the house has remained unlived in and we are going to get a real burial for that body."

Storming back to the Palace, they quickly re-entered the well-lit chamber. Brunwulf looked up, slightly surprised, "Back so soon? I warned you that Hjerim's interior was in poor shape."

"I don't give a damn about the furniture, Jarl. I want to know why the house has been unlived in for so long. Could it have something to do with the skeletal body and room covered in old blood?" said the elf in a barely reigned in snarl.

Brunwulf sighed deeply, "I suppose you do deserve the truth. That house was where several old murders took place. No one ever found the last victim's body, and the murderer killed himself before he would reveal it to us. Many residents of Hjerim assume it is haunted, but the priests of Arkay have ensured it is not. Thank you for finding that last victim, though. I promise you we will give her a true burial and I am sorry for have deceived you. I was... afraid that you would not buy the house if you thought it was haunted."

"I assume you have the decency to clean up the blood and bury the body without additional cost to me, correct?" said the elf still with his biting tone.

With a resigned nod, Brunwulf answered, "Of course. My apologies, thane, I should have warned you in advance."

Ardanthis nodded and turned to leave the throne room, but his eyes narrowed suspiciously at the jarl for a moment. Was he being addressed as "thane" as a way of being reminded that he served under the jarl? He was also surprised that the jarl apologized in the first place. Most other people in his position would expect their word to be law and would not give an apology. Perhaps Brunwulf was less status conscious than Ard gave him credit for, or he was trying to play up to the High Elf's sensibilities.

He left the Palace and made his back to the inn with Argis. The rubble was already completely cleared away and he used the main thoroughfare to get back to the inn. Surprisingly, the majority of the patients were gone. Looking around the room, Argis noted how much bigger it looked when not filled with wounded. He mentally sighed as he saw a few Nords sitting around the bar with mugs of mead. He nearly laughed when he realized that some of the patients and once-patients were also quietly drinking there. Well, Nords would be Nords.

A tired looking acolyte in brown robes knelt next to a wounded man and golden light flared from his hands. The soldier who was receiving the benediction stirred slightly before opening his eyes and whispered a thanks.

Ard gestured Argis onward towards the kitchen as the elf lent his own healing power to restoring the wounded. The last seriously wounded men in the hospital were seen to, and the subtle air of worry that had hung over the inn seemed to lift slightly. No one else here would die from the battle that ended the war.

Slipping into the kitchen, Ardanthis saw that Argis was already cooking a goat meat stew over a small, cheerful fire. The Altmer smiled appreciatively and his stomach's rumble echoed that statement. Argis grinned up at his thane, "How you managed to _not_ starve to death without me is beyond me."

Giving Argis a smile he answered, "I ate – but never this well." Eyeing the dirty kitchen floor with distaste the elf said, "With all the wounded being cleared out we should be able to find a free room and a pair of cots, don't you think? I'm going to ask the innkeeper about it." He quickly left before Argis could say that he was actually quite happy with the closeness that they shared when they were forced to stay close to each other on the floor.

The stew progressed well and Argis sat on a small stool, slowly stirring it as he waited for Ardanthis to return. He didn't have long to wait. When the Altmer returned, he was wearing a pleased grin. The wizard pulled up a stool and accepted the bowl of stew that was offered to him. After a few spoonfuls he met Argis' impatient gaze and smiling sheepishly, he answered the unasked question with, "I got us a room. I told the innkeeper our situation, and she let us have a room for a few days until Hjerim is up and running," he gave a small laugh, "She seemed impressed that we were moving into that place."

Unsurprisingly hungry, they wolfed down the stew in the ensuing silence. Picking up their packs, they headed to their new room. Regrettably, the bed had been appropriated for patient use, but two clean cots were in its place. Argis smiled slightly when he saw that both of the cots were pushed next to each other with one blanket thrown over them, making them into one bed. Ardanthis also smiled softly as he dropped his pack back on the ground and muttered, "I didn't even ask her to do that." With sighs of relief they removed their armour and relaxed slightly.

Ard sat down on one cot and patted the space next to him as an invitation for Argis to join him. The Nord sat down hesitantly, unsure of why a sudden nervousness had overcome the elf. Ardanthis took in a breath and paused for a moment before speaking softly, "Argis, I wanted to thank you for last night. I don't know what happened to me. It was like I just got overwhelmed by everything at once and I just- I just fell apart. I remember your arm around me, though, and I wanted to tell you how much it meant to me to know that you would be there to pick me up when I fell."

"Love," Argis began with his usual epithet for the elf before hesitating a moment and saying, "Ardanthis, I did it because I love you. I didn't do it as a housecarl preserving his thane, but as someone who loves his husband and wanting to help that person."

Giving Argis' hand an appreciative squeeze, the High Elf said in a slightly shaking voice, "I know, but I still wanted to tell you that it meant something to me too." They shared a brief but deep kiss for a moment before returning to just holding hands.

They sat in that position for a moment longer before the wizard suddenly perked up and looked at Argis with suspicion. He asked slowly, "Why are all of the other Nords but you drinking?"

Argis laughed lightly at the joke but answered honestly, "I've had a couple really bad encounters with the stuff, so I decided to ease back when I met someone who I liked more while sober than drunk. Although, I sometimes do miss it..." He trailed off wistfully.

"Well, maybe we should get something then. I don't want you to give up something you like just for me. Just don't get blackout drunk, alright? You're a bit heavy to drag back here," the elf said with a playful wink.

Heading for the door, they emerged into a small evening crowd. Candlehearth Hall was nowhere near as busy as it would be in better times, but it had a small crowd looking for celebratory drinks. The innkeeper was busily serving drinks to the men, who out of respect for the injured were quieter than normal. "What can I get you two?" she asked politely. An Alto wine and a mead were her answer. Returning with the bottles and a glass for the wine, she left them to return to other patrons.

Quietly sitting there, the pair enjoyed the ambience and laughter that swirled through air that had once smelled like blood.

The scrape of a bar stool announced one of the men standing unsteadily on his feet. He raised his mug and said in a slurring voice, "You know, you know Ulfric was right!" A wave of dissenting murmurs swept through the rest of the patrons, but the drunk continued on, "The elves are gonna get us. Look at how many grayskins there are in Windhelm. So many damn elves, kill 'em all and kill their damn Dominion."

Many nervous eyes flicked over to the dragonborn, who sat on the other side of the bar and glared darkly at the drunk. The drunk stared back at Ardanthis and said, "Tha's right, elf. I'm talking about you and your pointy ears."

Subtly, Argis put his hand on the elf's hand under the bar. He was unsurprised how hot the wizard's hand burned, but he murmured, "Remember the courier. You'll regret it if you make him right."

"Aw, what's that? Your dog begging you for something, elf?" jeered the drunken man. He turned and said to the crowd, "The elves are smart! They know they don't have to come in here and kill us to conquer us. They can just come here and conquer some men in bed."

Argis flushed red but before he could say anything, or the elf react violently, another barstool scraped along the floor as a different Nord rose up and snarled, "Shut your mouth, wretch. Don't you _dare_ say another word against either of them." He quickly pulled his shirt up and turned to show the rest of the men sitting around the bar a large, ugly, purple welter. Making eye contact with many of them he said, "Do you know how this got here? There used to be a Stormcloak arrow and a damn lot of pain here. These two men, who are so quickly slandered by this fetcher, are the ones who not only saved my life but the lives of many others. Some of you wouldn't be sitting here drinking if it wasn't for them." Rounding on the drunk, he spat out, "I'll be damned if I sit here and let you spew your poisonous words. Sit down and shut up or I'll make you."

The drunk sneered confidently at his opponent and drawled, "You really think you can take me? I could hurt you so your little elf would _have_ to heal you again."

Another scrape echoed loudly throughout the room as a third man stood and looked at the drunk, "You think you can take us both? I owe them my life too, and I don't let debts like that stand unchallenged."

More stools scraped back and in short order almost half of the bar was standing and staring silently at the drunk, who wore an expression of complete shock as he eyed all the men who stood against him. He muttered something unintelligible under his breath and staggered out of the Candlehearth Hall.

The first speaker turned to Ardanthis, who also wore a shocked expression, and said loudly, "I don't care what you do with who behind those closed doors. I care what you do out here, and out here you saved a lot of lives, High Elf."

"Th-thank you," stammered out Ardanthis, still overwhelmed by this unexpected show of support.

The tension in the air quickly dissipated as the drinking resumed. Quickly finishing his wine, the elf rose silently from the bar and headed for his room. Argis downed the last of his mead and followed him into the room.

He entered into a room dimly lit by the fireplace and he saw his husband smiling ear to ear as he slowly undressed. He asked Argis in a giddy voice, "Did you see that? They stood up for _me_."

Argis gave a small laugh, "See? You can change what they think, not only of you but of other mer. I guess this is what Brunwulf sees in you. But love? I think you're a little drunk right now."

With a careful look at Argis the wizard replied, "Maybe I am a little drunk, but that doesn't matter." His gaze flicked from Argis to the cots and he said softly, "You know, they reallydon't care what we do in here..."

The housecarl grinned at the implied suggestion and moved forward to embrace his thane and kissed him deeply. After all the tension of the last days, he was glad to accept the offer.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

AN: Sorry for tweaking the storyline of the Windhelm murderer back into the past. That quest was a buggy nightmare for me there, so I didn't want to try to write it out here. Plus, it's not really relevant to the plot. Again, all comments and criticism are appreciated. Even if you have something negative to say about it, I would love to hear it.


	16. Chapter 16

AN: Just a warning: there is a MxF noncon part here. It will not be too graphically described, but it will be there.

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Argis lay on his side, watching his husband sleep. The elf breathed deeply and evenly despite it being late morning, which was why Argis was watching him in the first place. He gave the elf a silent, amused grin for he suspected that the wizard was sleeping in so late because he had drunk too much the night before. Argis had never even seen his thane drink, let alone get drunk, but it had happened. While having drunk proportionately similar amounts, the Nord was better used to it and didn't suffer from it. He nearly laughed, who knew the dragonborn was such a lightweight? The wizard was also not "a little drunk" like he had thought last night, but "a lot drunk."

A loud bang and crash echoed from the taproom outside their rented room. Swearing softly to himself, Ardanthis rolled over and tried to pull his pillow up over his head. Argis' grin widened at how clearly hungover the Altmer was. They couldn't lounge in bed all day, though, so he gently rose and left the room to negotiate a quick breakfast from the innkeeper.

He returned and gently closed the door behind him, softly placing the tray loaded with a small roast chicken on the table. A groggy voice asked from the bed, "Do you have to be so damnably loud, Argis?"

"I'm actually being quite quiet, you've just got a hangover," replied the Nord softly, "How much of that bottle of wine did you end up drinking?"

"All of it," came the dry response.

With a gusty sigh Argis used a large knife to split the chicken and said, "Well, you're going to have to find it in you to stagger out of that bed some time today. Hjerim is set to be refurnished today and we'll get to meet the new housecarl."

Ardanthis sat up and winced at the light for a moment before saying, "You don't have to use so much bile when you talk of the new housecarl. It's not like he's going to replace you, you know."

A surprised expression crossed the warrior's features for a moment, and he frowned as he said, "I know, but it just feels like I'm not good enough. That he's going to compensate for some failing of mine."

The elf shook his head but quickly thought better of that gesture, "It's nothing like that. It's a matter of duty, as you would well know. There must always be a housecarl for every thane. Besides, the smaller bedroom can be his and he won't intrude on what we do in our own room. Believe me, I'm not going to let him have any control over what goes on in that house." With a softly muttered spell, the wizard's hands flared with golden radiance. He closed his eyes and massaged his temples as the light seeped into his head. Opening his eyes, he smiled and rose from the bed as he declared, "Much, much better."

Taking a seat at the table as the High Elf sat down, Argis tucked into his meal with gusto. He said in between bites, "I know it's nothing personal, but...just promise me nothing's going to change."

Ardanthis reached out and gently traced the tattoo on Argis' face for a moment before softly saying, "Do you think you're the only one who knows about not giving up? Nothing will change, Argis. I married you because I love you, and that won't change. It doesn't matter who walks through that door."

The Nord reached up and gently caught the wizard's hand and interlaced their fingers, "I'm just glad to hear you say it, love."

The rest of the meal passed quickly as the pair wanted to see how their new home was progressing. Finishing the roast chicken, they quickly left down the narrow side streets of Windhelm as they made their way towards the small section where their house was located.

Argis noted the strange effect that the narrow streets seemed to have on the wind. They channeled the wind, which created a constant moan and gusting breezes. Being from Markarth and being used to the constant sound of the waterfalls, Argis quickly came to like the rush and thrum of the wind on his face, and the wizard only seemed slightly bothered by the brisk air.

Upon their arrival, Hjerim looked like an anthill someone had kicked. Bodies bustled in and out of the building, carrying wood, furniture, and other sundries into the house or carting refuse away. Slowing down as they approached, the two men watched with amazement as these men and women bustled to get their home into a livable condition. The workers nodded to the pair as they passed and slipped inside house. Half a dozen craftsmen worked inside the home, constructing the furniture that would be too large to fit through the doorway.

What immediately attracted Ard, though, was the sound of arcane chanting coming from the previously hidden room. No one else seemed disturbed by it, but the wizard's face slipped into an expression of consternation as he quickly approached the room with Argis in tow. Peeking in through the dresser-doorway, he saw that a wizard stood before an enchanting table and was etching symbols into it. He nodded in relief at this discovery, glad that there was nothing malign happening. Taking a moment to look around the room, he realized that there were no signs of blood or violence in the room, and that a few bundles of herbs hung discreetly on the wall to help clear the air.

A voice behind him softly spoke, "It is an honour to see you, my thane, but could you step aside?" Turning around, Ardanthis saw a mountain of a man lugging a small, round, stone table. Quickly darting further into the room and the far corner there, the wizard looked with confusion at the large table being moved into the room, but he quickly understood when the man set the table down in the corner opposite from the enchanter's table and began to set up alchemic devices. The Imperial woman who was setting up the enchanter's table continued her chanting and symbol etching as if nothing were happening around her. Ardanthis, well familiar with the process and concentration required for enchanting, left the woman to her work as she pulled out a large, blue soul gem and pressed it against the table.

The workers bustled throughout the house, and most of them moved disassembled furniture into the various rooms as craftsmen assembled various objects. Trying their best to be unobtrusive, Ardanthis and Argis observed the very hectic but very efficient workers and Argis muttered, "I guess coin really can get results, even just after a war."

With a grim nod the wizard replied, "Especially after a war, Argis."

Getting tired of dodging workers, they decided to leave the house to better allow the men and women that the jarl had hired to do their work. They quickly left the homes of the wealthy behind as they strolled about the city and saw how quickly it had been repaired. The market, which lay a short distance from Hjerim, was already bustling with people and vendors. The pair wandered through the busy market and was quite surprised by the diversity of vendors within it. They spotted not only Nord, but Altmer and Dunmer run stalls. Patrons of many races intermingled here as they poured over goods and wares.

Quickly wearying of the teeming market, they strolled through the blustery streets until they entered the Grey Quarter. The Dunmer here seemed to be far removed from those that shopped or worked in the market near Hjerim. Looking around the district, it was easy to see why. Most of the houses were closely packed and small, with haggard looking Dark Elves walking about. A small shop sat in the district, and as the door opened to let a patron out, the Altmer caught a glance of the interior. He was disappointed to see what looked like a messy hodgepodge of wares, and one lonely Dark Elf standing behind the counter. He softly murmured to Argis, "I can see why Brunwulf wants to help the Dunmer here. They need it more than most." Dirty looks occasionally fell on them, but as a whole they seemed apathetic or guarded.

They quickly left the district and its sundry miseries behind as they made their way to the brine scented docks. Walking carefully along the icy wharf, they made their way past small groups of Argonians who looked disdainfully upon the pair. Out on the docks, the hostility from the Argonians felt slightly more pronounced than anything they had felt from the Dunmer. "Gods, what did Ulfric _do_ to these people to get them to look at me so?" asked Argis in a soft voice. Strangely enough, the Argonian workers responded quickly and without rancor to the Imperials who were coordinating the work on the docks.

Meandering through the streets of the city, they wound up back in front of the Candlehearth Hall. The inn had returned to its previous bustling state, and it seemed that people were only too eager to return to a life from before the battle had swept their city. The High Elf winced when he looked at the door, but tried to cover the reaction. Argis gave a silent, soft smile as he caught the brief flash from Ard and knew that the elf would be more careful about how deep he fell into his bottle.

Ard blew out a sigh that got caught by the wind and whirled away. He glanced at Argis and asked, "Mind if we go back to Hjerim? You may by fine with the temperature, but I'm really starting to feel it." The housecarl nodded immediately, well aware of how the cold could be perceived by different races and well aware of how inured to it he was. A city of Windhelm's size paid no attention to two passersby, which allowed the wizard and warrior to hastily make their way through the streets to the grand manor.

The few hours they had spent seeing the city they were to play a part in restoring had wrought great changes in their house. Entering into it, they immediately saw a grand table set in the middle of the room which vaguely reminded them of the table in the Palace of the Kings. While obviously not as grand as the jarl's table, the large piece still dominated their first room. Sweeping his gaze around the room, Argis was highly impressed with how quickly the various shelves and other odds and ends of furniture had been assembled. Chanting still echoed out from the once-hidden room, which prompted a pitying frown from the housecarl. It suddenly built up into a fevered pitch and a bright light spilled out of the room before the chanting seemed to gradually subside. The light dwindled down to almost nothing as the warrior and elf approached the room.

A tired looking Imperial wizard leaned on the newly-finished enchanting altar with a relieved smile on her features. "Do you...want something? A drink perhaps?" asked the wizard softly.

The woman spun around in surprise before registering who it was that had asked the question. She nodded her head quickly and said in a raspy voice, "If you wouldn't mind. I think I saw them bring in some bottles of Alto wine..." she trailed off hopefully.

Giving her a sour look for a moment, he answered, "Help yourself. We're going to keep looking around the home." She gave the wizard a grateful nod and walked out of the room.

The room was dimly lit with ambient light from the main fireplace, which barely provided any illumination. With the conclusion of the enchanting process there was almost no light within the room, and the wizard conjured his own glowing orb. The newly created light reflected off of several mottled soul gems which were neatly organized on the shelves opposite the enchanting table. Grinning like a child looking at candy, the wizard eyed the gems for a moment before reaching out and plucking one off the shelf. Scanning the roof of the room, he saw a small hook for a lantern and quickly fetched one off of the shelf outside. Returning, he placed it in the middle of the table and the gem on the emblem of illusion. "Let's test you out," he whispered to the table.

His own hands flared with green light as the soul gem crumbled to dust and sunk into the table. The light seeped from his hands into the table and slid to the emblem of illusion before shooting into the lantern. It seemed to collect in the lantern, which glowed softly as though it had captured one of the magelights the wizard could conjure. Smiling with satisfaction at his work, the wizard hung the magical lantern on the hook that lay embedded in the ceiling. As he left the room, Argis noted that the lantern dimmed to the barest glimmer and the room was shrouded in darkness once again as they departed.

Returning to the main room, they saw that the female wizard sat at the table pouring wine into a tankard. She raised the tankard in salute to the other two as she gulped down its contents.

Heading up the stairs Ardanthis noted the changes that the swept over the upper floor. The dirt, dust, and cobwebs were gone and replaced with weapon racks, glass cases, and bookshelves. Walking slowly and admiring the calibre of work that the furniture showed, the Altmer was pleased with what his coin had bought. He also noted the decorations that gave Hjerim a "homey" feeling and smiled. The jarl really wanted the wizard to feel comfortable in the city.

With slow strides, they made their way to the smaller of the bedrooms and glanced inside. A large wardrobe, chest of drawers, and bed filled the majority of the room but it felt cozy instead of cramped. A small, unlit fireplace sat in the room which would provide warmth throughout the cold Windhelm nights.

Giving his housecarl an excited smile, the wizard headed for the main bedroom. Beautifully fixed up, the room was well lit by the warm glow spilling out of the fireplace and spoke of welcoming. A dresser, multiple bookshelves, a place to display a shield, a table with two chairs, and the large bed rounded out the room. An old male Nord stood by the bed and nodded to them with the words, "Having seen the home, I hope you find it up to your standards."

"It is a beautiful home, friend. I hope you and your workers were well paid by the jarl for your efforts," enthusiastically answered the wizard.

With a relieved nod the man said, "I'll go collect Ilania before she drinks out the entire supply we brought you." He moved to leave, but hesitated at the door for a moment before adding, "Hjerim is an old and proud manor, please care for her."

Ard gave the man a solemn nod, eliciting a relieved smile. Slipping away from the homeowners, the man slipped down the stairs and Ardanthis heard the man loudly tell the Imperial wizard that they had to leave. The click of the door closing behind them told the wizard that he and Argis were finally alone in their new home.

With a happy sigh, they slowly made their way back down towards the kitchen. Sifting through their kitchen for something they could eat, they were pleasantly surprised to find a well-stocked kitchen. Fresh fruit, roasted vegetables, and seasoned pheasant breast quickly began to be prepared. As Argis cooked the meat, something Ard couldn't be trusted with, while the elf sliced and prepared the fruit. Knowing that a third person would soon join their household, extra food was being prepared for this unknown figure.

Despite the apparent serenity of the very domestic scene a subtle undercurrent of tension ran beneath that calm. This mysterious housecarl was supposed to arrive at Hjerim today, and it was already late afternoon. He should arrive very soon, and this imminent arrival made both the men nervous and quiet in their tasks.

Argis was the first to break the silence, and he asked, "Do you think the new housecarl will be an oaf?"

After a short, barked laugh, Ard replied, "I certainly hope not. Not that I'm even sure what role he's going to play around here, but I wouldn't want a stupid brute for a guardian." He sighed softly before continuing, "We've killed our fair share of savage and brutish men, haven't we, Argis? I would not want to live with one as a demand of the jarl."

The warrior nodded quietly as he turned the cooking bird meat and quietly asked, "What if...what if he has a problem with _us_?"

"Then he can leave, jarl's expectations be damned. I would rather renounce my position as thane, give up Hjerim, and demand every last septim back from the jarl before I let _anyone_ come between us Argis," said the wizard in a voice full of intensity.

Rising quickly, the elf stood behind the warrior and placed a hand on his armoured shoulder. "Please, Argis. Do not be afraid of losing me or anything else over this. You are the most important thing to me, now and forever. I don't care who steps through that door – I've bound myself to you out of love, not necessity, and I will never break that."

"Maybe I've just been listening to too many bards, with their stories of lovers lost and stolen," said the housecarl as he took the wizard's hand in his own and smiled up at the wizard.

The unmistakable click of the locked door opening sent a sudden chill through Argis. Regardless of what had been said, now was the time when words stopped mattering and actions became central. Only two keys were ever made for a thane's home, one for the thane and one for his housecarl, ensuring that the house was only able to be easily accessed by either person. The door's lock clicking open meant that the housecarl had arrived.

"I had better meet him so he doesn't walk into an empty house," muttered the wizard as he swiftly departed for the door which was even then creaking open.

Argis listened carefully as the wizard said, "Welcome, housecarl, to Hjerim. I am Ardanthis, who are you?" The answer was pitched too low for Argis to hear despite the close attention he was paying to the speaker. Suddenly, Ardanthis spoke loudly and called back, "Argis, come and meet the new housecarl."

Argis rose slowly and calmly called, "Coming, love." He mentally berated himself for feeling so nervous over meeting this new man. He didn't feel this tremulous when fighting Forsworn or giants, but this one stranger reduced him to a hesitating mess. Straightening his back, he mustered his discipline to ensure his stride was even, that it was unhurried and confident. He would not let this stranger see his fear.

Entering the main dining room he caught sight of the new housecarl and his breath caught in his throat. He immediately recognized the man, despite the years that stood between their last meeting. To him, the crystalline blue eyes and red hair were unmistakable.

Managing to maintain his cheerful and upbeat tone, the wizard said, "Argis, this is the new housecarl. His name is-"

"Calder," interrupted Argis in a flat voice. Though the figure before him was no longer the youth that he had known during his training, his core features remained unaltered, which allowed the big Nord to immediately identify him. Unlike Argis' features, Calder's had remained unscarred by the passage of the years. His body had filled out to a man's form, and though he was not as burly as Argis, Calder was clearly in shape. Argis' breath hitched slightly when he recognized the armour that the other man wore. It was the same make as Argis' but it was not nearly as well cared for. Argis recognized worn straps and small dents in the steel, which must have been earned from combat.

Giving the warrior a curious glance, the wizard said, "Yes. Do you know each other?" His gaze flicked between both of the dumbstruck looking men before he said in an exasperated voice, "Someone tell me what in Oblivion is going on here!"

"Calder and I met in the war to free Markarth. We didn't fight together, but we trained together and...I think we both fell in love. I never saw him after the final battle," said Argis in a soft and still amazed voice.

Now the wizard's expression took on the same sort of bewilderment that coloured both of the other men's faces and he asked the red haired housecarl, who had remained silent thus long, "Is what Argis said true?"

The new housecarl seemed to suddenly stir to life and he said quietly, "Yes, my thane. All of it, even the part about love, is true."

"I am- I am sorry, but Argis and I are married now. I trust those feelings remain in the dust of the two decades that have passed," stated the wizard with only a slight edge to his voice.

Calder nodded rapidly and said briskly, "Of course. I wouldn't dare to interfere in a marriage, my thane."

"Very good," said Ardanthis, "But please, call me Ardanthis or Ard instead of 'my thane.' It took me an ungodly amount of time to break Argis of that habit, so I hope you drop it faster."

The wizard's attempted jovial attitude fell flat in the face of the astonishment that the other two shared. Clearing his throat loudly, the Altmer said, "Well, I'll be in the kitchen making sure the pheasant doesn't burn," and left the two Nords alone.

Argis was suddenly caught by the awkward silence that extended between them. Emotions roiled within him, as the poignant but long buried feelings from his youth demanded release in the face of his first love. He quickly quashed those gut impulses. He was a married man, and not the love struck and easily overwhelmed boy he had been when the two had first met.

Calder opened his mouth to say something, but Argis hastily muttered, "I'm going to make sure he doesn't burn anything. You'd think he would have learned to cook by now but no, he chars everything. I'll be right back out." The words rapidly tumbled out of Argis' mouth, and he sounded flustered even to himself. He turned away and entered the kitchen in an effort to escape that space where neither of them wanted to speak.

Upon entering the kitchen he was met by a confused expression on his husband's face and the wizard asked, "Didn't you two want to talk?"

"No - well, yes, but not right now. I just can't – it's too much," stammered the warrior.

Ardanthis stepped away from the not-yet-burned pheasant and embraced the warrior. His mouth next to Argis' ear, he said softly, "Take this time to collect yourself. We'll eat and then I'll give you two some time to catch up. Just as I asked you to trust me, I'm going to trust you too, alright?"

The warrior managed a jerky nod and was released by his thane. He reached for the nearest stack of plates he could find, the new kitchen still unfamiliar to him, and returned the grand table in the dining room. He mentally twitched at seeing Calder sitting there, but he continued on with setting the table. His mouth felt dry as he asked, "Did you want some mead?" He knew he sounded much calmer than he actually felt.

Calder looked up at him, as if surprised by the question, and quickly nodded.

Argis took the opportunity to escape back into the kitchen and fetched two bottles of mead. He turned to the High Elf and asked, "Love, what will you take?"

"Not wine, I can tell you that much. Maybe some milk-" began the wizard.

"No! Not milk! You don't want to look like a milk-drinker to him on your first meal with him," said Argis quickly.

Sighing, the wizard replied, "Right, right. I had forgotten about you Nords and your obsession with mead or nothing at all. I'll just have water then."

The table was set in short order and the three men sat down to eat. A delicate silence settled over the table as they ate, and no one wanted to break it without good cause. Ardanthis, quickly growing tired of the tension that hung in the room, asked Calder, "I was told that you played a role in retaking Markarth from the Forsworn. I know from Argis that he fought in the center of the attack formation but where were you in it?"

Calder, smiling politely, said, "I was in one of the far edges of the formation. We were responsible for encircling and attacking the Forsworn from every side, which would keep them from breaking out of the trap."

"Well, the battle was obviously a success, but how did you end up serving in Windhelm of all places?" inquired the wizard with great interest.

Calder took a sip of his mead before leaning back and saying in a too-casual voice, "Markarth was flooded with young, freshly trained swordsmen at that time and with so many Forsworn killed, the jarl of the city didn't see the need for such a large standing army. Some found posts as guards within the city, but there were so many of us. I didn't want to return to small town farming so I took on with various trading caravans. Saying I fought in the final battle gave me an easy place within the ranks of the guards, and I made my way through the different holds. Why did I settle in Windhelm? Well, I suppose it's partly because it's far from my old home and partly because there's something about this old city that just grabbed at my heart. The history that sleeps in the walls is just...comforting, I suppose. I fought with the Imperial forces when they attacked, and I must've made a good impression because here I sit." To Argis' ear, the story sounded rehearsed and artificial.

The red haired man suddenly turned to Argis and asked, "And what of you, Argis? How did you end up in Windhelm as the husband of the thane?"

Argis thought he detected a note of bitterness when the other man said "husband" but he could have just imagined it. Meeting Calder's gaze he quickly tried to compress the last two decades as something to be discussed easily, "You may have heard that I impressed Ulfric Stormcloak himself with my bravery, but that's a lie. He knew that I was the only one who would speak of how he tried to quit the field to protect his own life, and so he bought me with the honour he bestowed upon me. At the time, I didn't think of it as being bought, but honestly, that's what it was.

After that? I was the city's golden warrior, and I was further honoured with the position of housecarl after a few years." Argis hesitated before speaking the next words, "My... thane was killed in combat, and his brother left me to die. That's when my face got the way it is. Things fell apart in the city for me after his passing. I took on caravan guarding jobs as well, but I always returned to Markarth for whatever reason. Eventually, when Ardanthis became thane, I was assigned to him. Initially, we didn't get along very well, but I think the rawness of combat showed us more of the other person than a peaceful setting ever would. We did some work for the Imperials and later got married in Riften's temple." He stopped his story to reach out and give Ardanthis' hand a quick squeeze before continuing, "And eventually we ended up here after also fighting against the Stormcloaks."

The rest of the dinner passed with only small talk about the city being exchanged, and asking Calder about the landmarks in and around the city. At the end of it, Ardanthis rose gracefully and announced, "I'll be leaving for now. I want to see some of the potions and ingredients down at the White Phial before it closes. I won't go far, so don't worry about me." Argis nearly laughed at the transparent means of giving the two housecarls time alone to speak freely, but appreciated the thane's efforts nonetheless.

The wizard stepped out into the cold evening and the light of the sun, which was just beginning to set, and with the click of the door closing behind him, it felt as though an important junction had been reached for the two men.

Argis was the first to break the silence and he asked, "Is what you said true? About how you got here. It sounded...rehearsed." The last word sounded weak even to Argis' ears, but it was the word that best described the other man's story.

Calder let out a long, slow sigh and admitted, "It's not exactly true." Argis looked pointedly at him, wordlessly demanding the truth, and the blue eyed man obliged with, "You know what it's like to have to choose between life and honour. Well, I made that choice too. You were lucky enough to catch Ulfric in a less-than-honourable moment, but I was among the throngs of warriors looking for some kind of job that would keep them from returning to the petty village life we were trying to escape. True, some immediately went back to their old homes and old lives, but the majority of us stayed and looked for a way we could make it through the world with our swords."

He laughed slightly at the next memory, "A few of the men spoke of resorting to banditry, but with all the other men available to be hired to kill them that plan quickly dropped. I ended up leaving Markarth as a caravan guard. I was one of the people lucky enough to secure a spot on a load of silver ingots headed to Whiterun. When I reached there, I was glad to be out of the crowd of other young blades." Calder's voice took on a bitter edge as he said, "But I was a fool. I thought that maybe then I would be able to find work with my blade, but it was nearly impossible. Whiterun had the damn Companions to handle their problems for them, and they didn't need a young fool with a blade to try to solve their problems for them."

"I got on a different caravan," he said as he ran his hands through his hair, "and ended up in Riften. This was a city that needed muscle, wasn't it? No Companions and no horde of warriors looking to kill things. I was a fool once more as the city didn't want upfront confrontation. It was about discreet bullying and thievery. If I wanted, I could have joined up with the thieves guild there – they made the offer – but I was too young and full of the notions of honour. I decided to keep my honour and damn the easy life." His voice seemed like it was full of self-blame, but he continued on with his story.

It seemed to Argis that the story spilled out faster under its own need, as if it had been bottled up. He leaned forward slightly as Calder continued, "I joined the last caravan I would see for years and headed the relatively short distance north to Windhelm. I was tired, you know? Tired of always being on the move and I wanted to stay in this city. On the surface, Windhelm seemed like an interesting city with diverse people and it was led by the same man that had won us the battle against the Forsworn. I felt like I was home because I wanted to feel like I was home. So I left the caravans, nearly broke mind you, and went to a tavern. It was seedy and cheap, and it's where I first learned the value that my honour could be sold for. I paid for my tab that way."

Argis carefully asked, "What do you mean you sold your honour?"

"Don't play stupid, Argis. You know what I mean," said Calder sharply. Argis just maintained his neutral expression as he looked at the red haired housecarl, which forced the other man to angrily sigh and spit out, "I'm a whore, damn you." Argis only nodded wordlessly, but his eyes must have asked how Calder reached a point that low for the other man continued, "I made almost as much in under half an hour as I did guarding that caravan for days." He slumped forward and ran his hands through his hair before continuing, "I told myself it was just for a little while. Just until I found a really well-paying job that I could do with my sword." He took a large gulp of his mead, "But Windhelm is a good place for this...business. You've seen how beaten down the Dunmer are, or how abused the Argonians are. Do you know what they'll pay for just one hour of having control over one of the people they think abuses them? They know not to get too rough, and they're almost always happy with the limits they've got."

"But," interjected Argis cautiously, "wouldn't the other Nords of Windhelm protest this kind of action?"

Flashing Argis a wide grin, Argis couldn't tell whether he was grinning self-depreciatingly at his own position or if he was grinning at Argis' naivete, Calder replied, "Not when they're taking advantage of it too. Don't you think there are Nords who want to be with other men without having to worry about honour or being exposed? That's what they were really looking for – the experience without the threat to them or the expectation of commitment. After having their fill of the dirty part of Windhelm, they go back to their honourable lives, with none of the people around them knowing better. Can you believe I recognized one of my...clients in that bear fur armour of the officers?" He let out a raucous laugh.

Argis was quietly choking on disappointment, but he struggled to contain it. Honestly, he didn't know what he had expected from Calder, but he had wanted the other man to be better than this. He knew that he had been lucky in Markarth, but more than anything he wanted to ask how the other man's path had diverged and gone so terribly wrong. He understood things could be hard, but to resort to selling yourself? He mentally sighed at himself, who was he to judge? Calder had had no advantages and one of the only ways he had of making money, his skill with the sword, was useless to him. His own conscience jabbed him and reminded him of his own time spent guarding caravans and his own dalliances there. Realizing the silence that was stretching between them was going to become tense soon, Argis quickly spoke, "Well, at least now you won't have to...sell your honour anymore. As a thane's housecarl, you'll have room and board provided for you, and if you help Ardanthis he _will_ pay you well from whatever reward he gets. Have you kept your sword skills up?"

Calder nodded, "I always practiced my forms. Not only was it a good way to make sure my body didn't get soft, but I was waiting for the time when my skill with the blade would be needed again."

"How did you become a housecarl, by the way? Was what you told Ardanthis true?" inquired the blonde Nord.

Downing the last of his mead, Calder nodded and replied, "I saved an Imperial officer's life. He led a successful charge on a few Stormcloak redoubts with me by his side, and he recommended me to General Tullius, who then pressed me on Jarl Brunwulf." He chuckled slightly, "I think the jarl only agreed because he was too overwhelmed with establishing order in the rest of the city to say no. I think the jarl was expecting the general to make good decisions and the general was expecting the jarl to catch any mistakes he may have made. Me? I slipped in between those oversights." He caught a flicker of worry in Argis' eye and quickly added, "But don't worry. I won't fail you or my new thane."

Nodding with relief, Argis asked, "Are you tired? I can show you to your room." He didn't want to hear any more of what Calder had to say. Too many disappointments were already packed into that conversation.

Calder rose from the table quickly and said, "I am tired, so I think I'll take your suggestion."

Rising as well, Argis beckoned Calder up the stairs and led him to the small housecarl's room. The other man looked around the room with and approving nod and hung his sword and sword belt on a peg in the large cabinet. Argis realized that the other man had no pack with him and asked with concern, "Do you have anything with you? You never brought anything in."

With a shake of his head the new hosuecarl replied, "I travel light. When you sleep in different beds so often, you pack light."

The door opening could be heard from the lower floor and Argis quickly said, "Ardanthis and I will be in the bedroom across the hallway, so I'll leave you here for now."

More than anything, Argis needed to escape into the night. He needed the space, the cold wind, and the silence to process everything he had heard from Calder. Coming down the stairs, he saw his thane standing at the table, but he noticed his husband and smiled at him. When Argis' face remained set in its troubled look the elf quickly approached him and caught his arm as the warrior tried to move past him. He softly said, "Can we trust him? What's wrong, Argis?"

The Nord nodded his head quickly and replied, "We can, and I've just – I've just heard a lot. I need a bit of time to myself, so I'm going to go out."

"But it's dark out and you don't even have your sword!" exclaimed the Altmer.

Argis called back over his shoulder as he left, "I'll be alright. With so many soldiers in Windhelm, I'll be fine."

He closed the door behind him and sucked in a deep, cleansing breath of the cold air of the city. With rapid strides, he quickly began to walk through the dark city and let the conversation he had with Calder repeat in his head. He shook his head sadly, thinking to himself of all the damage done to the poor man. No matter what he did, Calder's honour would always be stained by what he did. He would never be able to erase those nights when he sold himself.

Argis' path led him from the empty market and past the cheerful glow of the Candlehearth Hall without him noticing either. He steps led him through the city as he continued trying to reconcile the Calder he remembered from twenty years ago with the Calder he had met that night. Without realizing it, he had ended up in the Grey Quarter, and he wondered for a moment what a Dunmer housecarl would have been like.

The just underneath the moan of the wind, Argis thought he heard a soft whimper. He ignored it, thinking it was only his imagination until he heard a male voice softly but urgently hiss, "Hush, girl. I told you it would be easier for you if you just kept quiet."

Argis stopped and looked around for the source of the voices. He was in the shadows of a building and he used his concealment to search the other shadows. A splash of moonlight spread its scant illumination along the entrance of an alleyway before the clouds blocked the light again and draped the street in darkness. In that flash of light though, Argis caught sight of two violet eyes leaking tears and pleading for a help as a hand covered the mouth beneath them.

Rushing across the street to the alley, he clearly saw what was happening and it sickened him. A Dunmer woman was pressed up against the wall with her legs spread while a Nord man with his pants pulled partway down slid in an out of her rapidly. One hand was used to stifle the woman while the other pawed at her breasts. The Dark Elf looked at Argis with a mixture of hope and fear and the warrior could see that one of her eyes was beginning to swell shut. "Get off of her," he snarled at the brown haired Nord as he approached them.

Still moving in and out of the woman the man grunted out, "Hey, hey, I'm almost done if you want to use her aft-"

His words were cut off by Argis' steel boot slamming into his mouth and knocking him off of the woman and shattering many of his teeth. The man shouted in pain and clutched at his mouth as blood poured out of it. Argis bent over the woman, offering his hand and softly asking her, "Are you alright?"

She only screamed and raced, naked, a short ways down the street before suddenly veering into a large building, the New Gnisis Cornerclub. Argis's attention was dragged back to the brown haired Nord who had struggled to his feet and pulled up his pants. Blood ran down the man's chin as he snarled, "Idiot. It was just a Dunmer bitch, and now you're going to die for her." The man drew a dagger and rushed Argis.

The warrior truly missed his sword and shield, which were laying in Hjerim, as he tried to dodge the thrusts and slashes of the dagger wielding man. His foe was canny enough to aim for the gaps between Argis' plates of armour. Continuing to back up to avoid the knife, Argis attempted to grab the man's wrist as he dodged slashes, but all he got for his efforts was a wicked gash on the underside of his forearm. He was carefully watching this desperate man, and knew that the man was looking for a chance to safely bolt. His desperation made him particularly dangerous but also reckless.

The door of the Cornerclub suddenly banged open and it seemed like every patron in the building poured out of it. A few of them peeled off in different directions, but the vast majority of them oriented on the two Nords. One of the Dunmer screamed, "There they are!" The crowd surged towards Argis and his opponent, which distracted the knife-wielder. Taking advantage of the man's inattention, Argis lashed out and grabbed his wrist and squeezed, making him drop the knife.

By this time the mob had them surrounded in the middle of the street and they were in a decidedly ugly mood. One of the Dunmer darted out and scooped up the knife before either Argis or the other Nord could get it. "Damn the Nords. You think you can just take whatever you want?" shouted one.

"I did nothing wrong! I stopped him," roared Argis. It felt like the ring of Dunmer was closing in slowly. "Take him to the jarl's court for justice," shouted the warrior as real fear began to set in. They looked like they were going to tear him apart.

A woman's voice screeched, "The jarl won't care about a Dunmer! He'll just set you free in moments. No! We'll show you that you can't take anyone you want."

Argis ducked into a crouch as a clay mug flew at the space his head had occupied moments ago, and he heard the other man scream as it shattered against his flesh.

"No! Stop!" called out a woman's voice from somewhere in the crowd surrounding them. There was a slight jostling as a cloaked figure pushed through the crowd to the front. The hood on the cloak fell back from her face and revealed the bruised visage of the victim. By now her eye had completely swollen shut, and she had not even had the time to clean the dirt and tear tracks from her face. From the way her cloak swirled, Argis could see that she wore a thin shirt and cotton pants under the cloak.

"Elusa, go back to the Cornerclub. You'll be safe there and we'll make sure these men never hurt another Dunmer again," snarled a man who clutched a rusted iron dagger.

Her voice shook and seemed thin, but it carried to the ears of the mob, and she said, "No! This one," she touched Argis's shoulder, "saved me. If you punish him then you are hurting the man who risked his life to save me." Venom filled her voice as she regarded her assailant, "Him though? I don't care what happens to him."

"Please! Give him over to the new jarl. Let Brunwulf prove himself," pleaded Argis. He did not want to see the other man murdered right in front of him.

The mob slowed and one man hesitantly said, "Maybe we should. This new jarl may prove a friend to us yet."

Most of the hateful glares slipped off of Argis as Elusa stood next to him. They shifted to the other Nord and Argis hoped he had stopped the imminent violence. The crowd seemed to be easing back from their murderous intent and murmurs of agreement and dissent made their way through the crowd. Speaking loudly, Argis said, "Send a few of your own with me and we'll go to the jarl's palace to hand this man over to the guards."

Elusa suddenly sagged and Argis caught her as she began to sink down. Two Dunmer men ran up to her and snarled at Argis, "Get your hands off of her, Nord." Quickly moving in to support her, they walked her back to the Corner Club. She cast a glance over her shoulder at Argis and he thought she mouthed "thank you" at him.

Someone from the crowd produced a small length of rope and used it to tie up the man's hands. Most of the crowd dispersed, but a five stayed with the assailant. Argis gripped one of his arms, and a Dunmer gripped the other as they marched directly to the Palace of the Kings. Approaching the ancient structure, the door guards stopped the small group and asked what they were doing so late at the Palace. A Dunmer woman angrily told the guards what had happened, and Argis firmly nodded when they looked to him for confirmation. They followed the guards, who had taken possession of the brown haired Nord, and followed them down to the prison and watched the guards lock their charge away before returning to the door.

At the small courtyard of the Palace, Argis turned to the five Dark Elves who had accompanied him and said softly, "I'm sorry this happened, but please know that I personally will ensure that he is punished for what he did to that woman."

A red eyed man looked over Argis with a neutral expression and asked, "What's your name, Nord?"

"Argis," replied the warrior simply.

Nodding, the man said, "We Dunmer are a tight knit community in Windhelm, and as much as it gall some of us to admit it, Elusa probably owes her life to you. Your name will be heard by many ears very quickly, and I can assure you that for once we will speak praising words for a Nord."

Argis knew the way the two communities in Windhelm conflicted and he was quietly dumbstruck by the other man's words, but he managed to stammer out, "I am honoured by your words, friend. Thank you."

The red eyed Dunmer nodded, and gestured to his friends and they departed back to the Grey Quarter without another word. Argis took his own leave and headed for Hjerim. He sighed as he looked at his bloody arm, which had mostly clotted already but still oozed blood, and how much of the night had been taken up by the whole encounter. Ardanthis would be worried sick about him. Suddenly, a voice spoke from the shadows a nearby narrow street, "Did you want me to patch that arm up, Argis?"

He immediately fell into a defensive stance with his fists raised until he saw Ardanthis step out of the shadows and out of his invisibility. Argis dropped his stance in shock as he incredulously asked, "Ardanthis! What are you doing here?"

With a small smile the Altmer replied, "One of the Dunmer from the tavern ran to get me and said something about two Nords that were going to get killed in the Grey Quarter. I immediately hurried out there, but by the time I arrived you had diffused most of the situation. I discreetly watched and then followed, ready to reduce them to blocks of ice if they made a move on you. You handled that admirably, Argis, but your arm is still bleeding slightly." Approaching the warrior, Ard gently took the man's arm and illuminated the street in golden light as he restored it.

The warrior gave an appreciative nod and they turned towards Hjerim. The wizard's hand on his arm held him back though, and Ard inquired, "I won't demand you tell me what Calder told you of his life, but I need to know if he is truly trustworthy? I know you said yes earlier, but you seemed to avoid the question earlier."

"He is, love. He's sold enough of himself that I think he's looking for somewhere to start building up again," softly replied the Nord. Ardanthis merely nodded at the warrior and walked with the warrior back to Hjerim.

Calder jumped up out of his seat as they entered and fearfully asked, "Are you alright, Argis?"

"I am, Calder. Besides a minor gash and some tension I've been fine, really. But I'm exhausted, so I'm going to go," replied the warrior.

Ardanthis was not far behind the warrior, but tipped his head to the other man and said, "Good night, Calder."

Argis slipped upstairs to his own room and immediately washed the blood and grime off of himself and sat down on the bed. He placed his head in his hands and sighed deeply. He heard the door to their room open and close quickly. He glanced up and sat Ard stripping his own armour off and washing down. Joining the warrior on the bed, he sat down and softly said, "I think Windhelm is more complicated than either of us gave it credit for, but we'll do right by it." Argis nodded and embraced his husband. They sat that way for a long moment until they slipped under the blankets and Argis quickly fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

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AN: If you don't remember who Calder is, go (re)read chapter 1 as he's in there. Otherwise, I hope you guys leave me feedback, positive or negative. If you don't want to publicly give the feedback as a review feel free to send me a message.


	17. Chapter 17

AN: This chapter will contain more smuttiness, and I apologize if this offends anyone. It is, as usual, flagged in the chapter. If you don't want to read it, I flagged its ending too. You should just be able to use the find feature and look for (( or )) as those are what I used for notation. If you don't read it, what happens is shortly explained in a later passage. As an aside, did anyone else notice that Skyrim, in general, just has very few doors that don't involve you loding a new area? In a house as large as Hjerim you would want doors to keep the heat in the room you're in. Unless you plan to try to heat the entire house, which would take an exorbitant amount of warmth I think, then you would like small, enclosed spaces.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The clatter and chatter of the three men in Hjerim sharing a breakfast filled the large dining room. Small jokes and stories flew between the three men as fresh buttered bread and fruit-heavy oatmeal were bolted down. The conversation ground to an immediate halt as a loud rapping could be heard on the door. Rising quickly, Ardanthis opened the door and saw a city guard. His brows contracted and a frown formed on his features as he looked at the guard in front of him and he asked, "What's wrong?"

Extending his hand, the guard offered the wizard a neatly folded letter, "Express orders from the jarl, my thane." He gave a short bow and left before the wizard could say anything else.

Ardanthis closed the door behind him as he returned to the two expectant looking housecarls. Cracking the seal on the letter he quickly scanned it and his frown did not lighten. "What's wrong, love?" asked Argis.

Not looking up from the letter, Ard replied, "Brunwulf wants us, expressly you and I, Argis, to go out and eliminate a small band of five Stormcloak loyalists. They're apparently in a small valley known as 'Windcalm Vale' but strike out at Imperial targets. Additionally, their leader is Tor Coldblade and he can be identified by a ring made of gold with a sapphire on a chain around his neck. We need that as proof of his demise." He quickly looked up at Calder and quickly inquired, "Do you know where that vale is?"

The red haired Nord nodded and said, "It's not an official place on any maps, but it's a commonly known place – especially to the farmers around Windhelm. You'll find it to the west of the city, but north east of the Nightgate Inn. It will take you about a full day's travel to get there and another day to get back, but that assumes good travelling conditions."

Nodding and focused on the letter, Ardanthis immediately headed for the stairs up to his room, the last of his breakfast lay forgotten behind him. Argis sighed softly, but wore an amused expression as he watched his thane quickly depart. He quickly followed the elf up to their room and left Calder behind with an apologetic look.

He immediately began to throw his armour on and watched the elven wizard strapping into his leathers. Argis' steel plate was quickly put on as the Nord clad himself in his armour and grabbed his pack. Thumping down the stairs he quickly made his way to the kitchen where he set up three days worth of supplies. Taking two days worth into his own pack, he made sure the two healing potions he had in his pack were easy to access before rising to stand by the door. The Altmer was down the stairs moments later, and immediately got the last chunk of their supplies.

As he was about to leave the wizard turned to Calder and softly said, "I'm sorry we're leaving you here. Don't worry, I'll make sure you get a portion of the bounty. I think the jarl wants us to prove our value to the city, or else he would have allowed me to bring whoever I want. We'll be back in two, perhaps three, days so feel free to take advantage of the books around Hjerim if you want to." Calder nodded as the two men slipped away.

They immediately left the city by its front gates and took the direction that Calder had suggested. The hours and distance slipped away beneath their swift-moving feet and they settled into a comfortable routine of watchful silence as they looked for threats, both natural and unnatural.

They approached an outlying farm, one of the last ones before the real, untamed wilderness of Skyrim began, and were intent on making sure they were on the right track to the vale when a scream pealed out into the still air. With one look at each other, the two men ran towards the farm. The small stone building's wooden door was splintered and swung lazily around in the cold wind.

A single man in the regalia of a Stormcloak soldier stood outside the building and he quickly spotted the approaching men. He darted inside, and moments later four more men poured out of the home. Sobbing from within the house could be faintly heard over the blowing wind as the five men stood before the doorway. In the center of the formation stood a tall Nord in the bear fur armour of a Stormcloak officer and he sneered disdainfully at the thane and his housecarl.

His cold gaze appraised the warrior and wizard, and his powerful voice boomed, "So, that usurper has sent you two to stop the five of us? I know about you two, you know. Brunwulf sends a High Elf and a Nord from another city to clean up his problems for him? Pathetic. It's no matter. The people of Windhelm have been crushed down by the Imperial forces, but maybe they will find their spines again when the head of their precious thane is found in front of the gates."

"And you are Tor Coldblade then? Why are you harming these farmers?" asked Ardanthis calmly.

Disgust poured off the Nord's words as he replied, "I am Tor Coldblade, and I am punishing these wretches because they refused to help us. They were afraid of the Imperials finding out, and so they tried to deny us what is ours. We are showing them that the Stormcloaks, even in defeat, are more terrifying than the Imperials could ever be."

Ardanthis' voice filled with authority and certainty as he declaimed, "These are rightful citizens of the Empire and I _will not_ permit you to persist in harming them. Surrender yourself to my custody and face judgement in Windhelm or die now."

Tor guffawed loudly as he heard the wizard's demand. Disdainfully he asked, "Did you really think we would go down that easily? That the Stormcloak spirit would be broken by one elf's haughty words? Come, lads, let's show them the ferocity of the Stormcloaks!"

The four Stormcloak soldiers, their faces completely covered by their helmets, drew their swords. Ardanthis brought his now-blazing hands together and quickly launched a massive bolt of fire at the soldier to Tor's immediate right. Not expecting the magical attack from someone dressed in leathers, the soldier didn't dodge in time. With a loud _whoosh_ the flames slammed into his chest, propelling him backwards and into the stone wall of the hut. The man slammed against the wall before bouncing off to lie face down in the snow. Magical fires still licked up from beneath his chest, but he was clearly dead.

Drawing his two swords, the elf and the warrior split up to draw their opponents apart. Tor drew a massive claymore that shimmered with a soft blue iridescence and with another one of his soldiers he cautiously approached the wizard's dual steel blades. Edging back slightly, the Altmer saw the other two soldiers split off to engage Argis.

His attention was drawn off of Argis as the faceless soldier rushed him and swung a clumsy, over-handed chop. Ardanthis blocked the sword strike with his right weapon and suffering a jarring pain shooting up his arm. He began to bring his other weapon around to disembowel the man he was engaged with when he saw a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision. Throwing himself out of the way he barely avoided Tor's claymore, which slammed its point into the ground. Quickly pulling it back, Tor eyed the elf carefully as the two warriors circled the High Elf. Ard noticed that a small web of frost had spread along the ground where the sword had struck and he winced when he thought of what that sword would do to him if it connected.

Appraising his two opponents, Ard felt certain that the helmeted one was definitely the weaker of the two. He waited for the two Nords to flank him before suddenly whipping around and rushing at the less experienced warrior. He loosed a flurry of blows and succeeded in knocking the other man's guard aside before raking his blade along his gut. The metal of his Stormcloak armour split beneath the blade's edge and the soldier shrieked as he clutched at his innards, which were threatening to spill out.

Not even hesitating to look for Tor, Ard dashed to the left and around the sagging and sobbing warrior. Looking towards the real threat, Ard saw the big warrior stop his advance as his own dying soldier came between him and his target.

A resounding scream from Argis' combatants tugged a quick glance from the wizard, who saw one of the warrior's foes clutching a blood covered arm while the housecarl buried his sword in the chest of the other man. With a sickening squelch, he tugged the sword out and faced the other man. The man that Ard had disemboweled slipped to the ground with a soft mewling noise before dying.

Ardanthis' attention returned to Tor as the Nord bellowed a war cry and charged the elf. Too slow to completely dodge the attack, Ard was forced to step back to avoid the worst of the swing and deflect the remaining force. Using both of his swords as a makeshift barrier, the claymore clanged off of them. Ard's triumphant smile quickly vanished as he cried out in pain. The icy magicka that was bound into the blade travelled down the wizard's weapons and slid into him. While it felt like his hands were frozen solid, he knew that blade did not possess that kind of power. He still staggered back in pain as the chill sensations ravaged his hands which were locked around his blades.

Ard didn't want to try to continue the fight in his present condition as his wrists felt too stiff to deftly wield the blades and they also felt likely to shatter at the next hard impact. Tapping into the magical forces that he knew so well, the Altmer called just a trace of fire to his hands. He did not want to risk heating up the blades too much, which could result in them becoming weaker from the rapid contraction and expansion, but he needed to become combat ready again. Tor was sizing him up and estimating how badly the cold had hurt his opponent, and with a predatory grin he pressed the attack against the wizard.

A wet gurgle from Argis' last foe told Tor that the last of his men had died and that he was alone against the thane and his housecarl. Swearing to himself, he turned and rushed towards Argis, who was struggling to get his weapon out of the ribcage of the man he had just killed.

"Don't try to block, Argis! The sword's magic will strike through the shield," called out Ardanthis as he saw Argis beginning to raise his shield. Nodding while brutally ripping the blade out of the chest cavity of the dead man, Argis sidestepped the blade's swing. Using the force of ripping the blade out of the warrior's chest, Argis attempted to knock the claymore from Tor's hands. The swords clanged loudly together, but Tor held his grip on the weapon. Blue light slid out of the claymore and into Argis as the weapons connected, but the warrior merely grunted and shook his hand as if trying to get feeling back into it.

The fire magicka had thawed the wizard's hand well enough that he was ready to reengage with Tor, who was desperately pressing Argis' defences hard. Over the shouts and clanging metal, Tor didn't notice Ard's approach until it was almost too late. The wizard's blades clanked as they connected with but failed to penetrate the Stormcloak's armour.

Whirling around, Tor swept low with his claymore in an attempt to cut the elf's legs off. Ardanthis had anticipated some form of retaliation and was already leaping back.

The Stormcloak carried the momentum of his swing into another swing against Argis. Not expecting the strike, the blonde Nord was unable to dodge it and raised his shield. The resounding clang of the claymore connecting with the steel shield rang out as Argis staggered backwards. The flare of blue light and the force of the blow slowed the housecarl's reactions, and Tor's second swing was heading for the other Nord's chest. Ardanthis mentally panicked, knowing he was too far away to stop Tor and wouldn't be able to call the magical forces to him fast enough.

A rock suddenly flew out of the air and slammed into Tor's armoured head. A steel chain mesh underneath the bear fur hat absorbed most of the blow, but it spoiled the man's aim and forced him to step back. He snarled in dismay as Argis recovered his defensive footing and regarded Tor with renewed energy.

Ard looked over to the source of the rock and saw that the woman who lived in the small cottage had an armful of rocks and was taking aim at the Stormcloak officer. "Stupid Imperial loving bitch," spat the warrior as he tried to keep an eye on all three threats. The farm woman was surprisingly tactical with her shots, and saved them for when Ard or Argis moved in to attack.

It was only a short while later that the Stormcloak officer, now quite battered and bloody, gave one final roar and rushed the farm woman. She shrieked and dropped her remaining rocks as she began her own mad dash away from the murderous warrior thundering towards her. Argis broke into immediate pursuit, but both he and the Altmer knew that the Stormcloak would chase down the woman and catch her before either of them could get him with their swords.

Dropping his swords, Ardanthis shook his still-cold hands and lightning crackled and snapped around them. He took a deep, steadying breath as he felt the magic travel down from his chest to gather in his palms. Looking towards Tor, the wizard exhaled as the bolt of lightning streaked from his hands and struck the Nord. Jerking spasmodically as the electricity made his muscles jump, Tor collapsed to the ground, his sword flying free of his grasp. The Stormcloak officer struggled to push himself to his feet, but Argis used his momentum to drive a knee into the man's back as his sword slammed through his heart. The combination of Argis' speed and his weight drove the sword completely through Tor's chest, and the Stormcloak officer let out one final blood-tinged gasp as he expired.

The farm woman was staring wide-eyed at the dead body in front of her and she rapidly breathed in and out. Ardanthis slowly approached her and softly asked her, "Are you alright?"

Blinking a few times in numb shock as she regarded the Altmer she answered slowly, as if coming back to herself, "Yes...yes I'm fine." She seemed to snap back to full wakefulness as she raced back to the cottage and called out, "My husband! He needs help!"

Quickly following her, Ardanthis entered into the wrecked cottage and saw a prostrate man who had a large gash over his left eye. The woman was kneeling next to the body and begged the wizard, "Please, you can do magic. Do something for him!"

Nodding serenely, the wizard knelt across from the woman and placed golden-glowing hands on the man's chest. With a groan, the farmer looked around with disorientation and his wife cupped his face as she gently explained what had happened after he was knocked out.

Ardanthis rose quietly and stepped outside back to Argis. The Nord had already flipped Tor's body over and was in the process of opening up his armour. With cold efficiency, the warrior fished a small silver chain out from under the warrior's hauberk and held it up for Ardanthis to see. Though covered in blood, it could easily be recognized as the finely wrought gold and sapphire ring. Argis looked up at Ardanthis and said, "Looks like our quarry came to us this time. He shaved days off of our travel time." Cleaning the ring on the bear fur helm, Argis slipped it into a pouch on his waist while Ardanthis moved to examine the bodies of the other four men.

With a gentle tug, he pulled the helmet off of the soldier that he had first killed with the blast of fire. The Altmer winced as he saw how young the man – more of a boy than anything – actually was. Quickly moving to the other Stormcloak soldiers, he removed their helmets and saw that they were all young, which explained why when he had been fighting them they had felt less experienced than the other soldiers he had fought before. He frowned sharply at how the Stormcloak officer had used the young boys as disposable fodder.

The farmer and his wife staggered out of the cottage and surveyed the bloodied bodies that lay scattered in their front yard. To their credit, neither of them seemed overwhelmed with the situation but pragmatically decided to focus on what needed doing. The man said loudly, "These bodies will need to be buried or the scavengers will come sniffing around soon. The last thing I want to deal with is wolves after all of this." He looked to Argis and Ardanthis hopefully.

"We will help you with giving these men an honourable burial," immediately volunteered the wizard. Argis understood the problems facing the farmers all too well and had no issue with helping his thane and the farmers bury the dead. Despite the cold weather, it was warm enough this time of the year that the ground was not frozen and the grave digging moved forward quickly. The five bodies were quickly interred beneath the earth and makeshift repairs were made to the door. Tor was buried with the sword that had given his family line its name and the only thing that was kept was the ring, which the two needed to prove that he was slain.

Argis and Ardanthis were eager to return home quickly, and upon being assured that the farmers would be fine they made their way back to the main road. With quick strides, they wound their way back to Windhelm and arrived long after the sun had set.

Argis glanced frequently at the tavern as they entered the city, and the wizard noted those looks. Standing in front of the Candlehearth Hall, Ardanthis stopped his husband. Taking out his coin pouch, he handed the Nord a large number of septims and said, "Go. Enjoy yourself. You know I won't be able to really enjoy the tavern. We both remember what happened last time I tried." He winced slightly before smiling as he recalled what had happened last time.

Taking the septims, the Nord looked at the Altmer with slight suspicion, "And what are you going to do?"

Ardanthis held out his hand and replied, "First of all, I'm going to collect the bounty, and then I'm going to see what Calder is actually doing when we're not around."

Rolling his eyes, Argis handed the wizard the ring and asked, "You really don't trust him do you?"

With a small smile, the wizard answered, "It's not so much that I don't trust him, but that I know I can trust him."

"Very well, love. Do what you have to do in order to feel secure, but you're probably going to find him sitting there and reading," said Argis with a soft sigh as he headed towards the tavern.

Ard departed for the Palace immediately after seeing Argis walk away. Collecting the bounty was a simple matter as there was a tired looking steward attending the throne room specifically to listen to people and deal with any issues that arose. Handing over the gold ring and explaining the situation, Ardanthis waited patiently as the steward flicked through a large tome and wrote something down. The old man explained that the gold would be kept safely for the thane in the city's vaults, which was perfectly acceptable to Ardanthis. No one wanted to carry around massive sacks of gold when they could help it. Nodding in thanks to the steward, Ardanthis left the Palace and arrowed for Hjerim.

Despite what Calder and Argis had told him, he didn't trust the new housecarl. He knew that the man's story was false, it had been too neatly constructed and recited for the elf, and Argis hadn't been very forthcoming with further information. It was uncharacteristic of Argis to be so silent, which made the Altmer suspect that there was more to be learned about Calder. He hated feeling like he had to protect his investigation from his own husband, but he also suspected that the blonde was interested in protecting Calder out of past feelings. He had to know what secrets Calder was hiding. His conscience gave him a small twinge of guilt as he realized he had no right to the man's secrets and that subterfuge was not necessarily the best way to go about this. He suspected that if he tried to confront the red haired Nord about this, then he could get the same falsified accounting of the man's life. No. This was the only way he could know for sure, since the housecarl would not expect him to be back for another few days.

He stood in the shadows and looked at Hjerim. It looked placid and quiet, but Ard wasn't taking chances. He raised his left hand and a soft fog seemed to pour out of it and wrap around his feet before fading. He experimentally stomped his foot and was satisfied with the lack of noise if produced. With his sounds successfully muffled, he raised his right hand and shadows billowed out of it and ran down his arm. In a few heartbeats he was nothing more than a barely noticeable, and completely silent, blur that slowly opened front door. The magic of the muffle spell cancelled out the noise of the door opening, and the wizard poked his head in. The main floor was empty and the fireplace was cold. Ard tried to maintain a hopeful attitude. The darkened main floor didn't have to indicate anything as Calder could be reading in his room.

Still stepping softly despite the warding magic that almost ensured he was undetectable, Ard made his way up the stairs, which were also darkened, and hesitated as he saw light spilling out of the housecarl's room. He was thankful his own room door was still closed and dark, but he was intensely curious as to who was in that room with Calder.

((Smut begins here.))

He stepped up to the edge of the doorway and looked inside. Calder stood before an Orc, and each of them was reduced to nothing but their loincloths. The Orc, built as big as Argis but slightly taller, kissed the wiry Nord and ran his hands along Calder's body.

Ard mentally sighed, he had no right to interfere in Calder's personal life, and if Calder chose to love an Orc, who was the Altmer to judge? He still wished, however, that the Nord had been discreet enough to take this...interaction to an inn He began to slip away and give the Nord privacy when he heard the Orc say in a husky voice, "On your knees, Nord bitch. You've got to earn it."

His eyebrows furrowing, the thane slipped back to the doorway. Lovers didn't usually talk to each other like that, and what was Calder earning? The Orc had freed his massive erection and Calder was gently kissing it and licking it slightly when the Orc ordered, "Suck it." The Nord man began to pleasure the orc with gusto.

Perhaps Calder loved the Orc for guttural physical reasons, mused the elf. After all, the Orsimer cut an impressive figure with his battle hardened physique, scar covered body, and his obviously generous cock. He watched as the Orc ran green fingers through the Nord's red hair and forced the housecarl to take as much as he could with each grunting thrust. Suddenly slipping his cock out of the Nord's mouth, the Orc grunted out in his gravelly voice, "On the bed, Nord. You are going to have to earn your gold tonight." He chuckled darkly.

Calder removed his own loincloth before complying with the Orc's order. The pair slipped out of the elf's line of sight, so he silently darted across the doorway to the other shadows. He was relieved that neither of them noticed his nearly-invisible shape moving across the doorway. On one level, Ard was enjoying the show but on a more important level he was seething with anger. From all appearances, the Nord was whoring himself out and using Hjerim as a brothel. He was compromising the safety, security, and honour of the stately house for a petty profit. Oh yes, Calder would have to be spoken to about this.

As Ardanthis seethed and mused to himself, he watched the Orc slide three fingers in and out of Calder's ass. Giving the Nord's firm butt a hard slap, the Orc positioned himself behind the housecarl and slowly pressed his large cock into Calder's interior.

The Altmer had to admit, the look on Calder's face as the cock slid into him was an exquisite demonstration of feeling every inch moving into him. Fully seated within the Nord, the orc barked a triumphant laugh and then began to thrust in and out of Calder.

The sound of green flesh slapping against the Nord's pale buttocks filled the air as the Orc took his pleasure from the other man's body. The Nord gasped, moaned, and groaned appropriately as the large Orsimer played with the man beneath him. The High Elf wondered if the Orc would take a long time to finish as he watched the Orc slam into the other man's ass. The reputed stamina and hardiness of the Orcs played out before Ard as he watched Calder cum with a loud groan. The Orc sounded somewhat like a pair of bellows as he excitedly sucked in air and grunted as he continued to plough Calder.

With no regard for technique or method, the Orc's thrusting grew to a frenetic pace as he slammed into Calder and grunted. He sounds like a wounded boar, thought the wizard sourly. With a heaving bellow, the Orc climaxed into Calder. In an almost tender gesture, he patted the Nord's back and softly said, "Good Nord. That was good, like always." Calder only moaned low in his throat and shuddered slightly as he felt the Orc's seed being pumped deeply into him.

((Smut ends here.))

He pulled out of the housecarl and immediately began to dress as Calder lay down on the bed in exhaustion. The Orc looked at Calder as he covered his rock-solid body with armour and said, "Tell me next time they'll be out of the house and I'll come by again. I also wouldn't mind if you managed to get one of them in here with you." He gave another deep laugh and Ard resisted the temptation to reduce him to ash. Grabbing a bag that clinked, the Orc tossed it on the bed next to Calder and added, "Here's your usual pay."

The Orc turned to finish dressing as the Nord counted out the coins. The big Orc thumped down the stairs and left the sweaty Nord behind. Padding softly after him, Ardanthis followed the Orsimer to the door and let him leave. He waited a few minutes to give the Orc time to leave so as to allow Ard to leave without arousing suspicion. Opening the door silently thanks to his magic, the Altmer stepped silently out into the night and walked around the corner before letting his invisibility and muffling spells fade.

He headed straight for the Candlehearth Hall, his steps were quick and determined as angry thoughts churned in his mind. Arriving quickly at the front door, he took a deep breath to calm himself before quietly opening it and entering.

The tavern was busy that night, and one more patron entering was unnoticed by the crowd. Stepping off to the side, Ardanthis scanned the room for Argis and saw the Nord sitting at a table in the corner with a bottle of mead in front of him. Good, the wizard thought, he won't be drunk yet. Making his way through the crowd, which was enjoying the singing of a bard, Ardanthis quickly sat down at his husband's small table.

Argis gave the elf a surprised look for a moment before breaking into a smile, "Love! I didn't expect to see you back so soon. Did you find everything alright at home?"

Ardanthis' expression shifted from the neutral one he had maintained thus far and fell into the angry one he actually felt. "We need to have a talk. _Now_, Argis," said the Altmer in a quiet and tight voice and Argis nodded quickly. Ardanthis doubted that that was his first drink, but the Nord hadn't drunk nearly enough to be unable to talk seriously.

Rising from the table, they exited into the cold night. Ard wordlessly led Argis towards their home and the Nord asked, "What's wrong, Ard?" The High Elf merely shook his head in response and kept walking until he was sure they were alone.

They were in a small dip between Hjerim's neighbourhood and the market which sat close to a graveyard when Ardanthis asked, "Argis, I need you to tell me everything Calder told you."

Argis sputtered slightly and said, "I told you he's trustworthy. Please, don't ask me to betray his trust and just trust _me_."

"Argis," the elf began before continuing sharply, "When I went to Hjerim I fully expected to find the man sitting and reading quietly at the best, or getting wasted off our wine and mead at the worst. Do you know what I found instead? I found him whoring himself out to an Orc. He brings shame on both of us and on Hjerim by his actions." His voice softened as he saw the Nord's expression drop and he said, "Look, Argis, I know you want to protect him but I need to know what else he might do."

Scrubbing his face with his hands, the warrior sadly looked at his husband and said softly, "I'm so sorry, love. He told me that he used to sell himself, but he said..." Argis trailed off in thought before continuing with a hint of anger, "Oh damn. He never did promise to stop a damned thing. I made an assumption based off what wasn't said."

"You knew, Argis? Why didn't you tell me?" asked Ardanthis, noticeably trying to keep his composure.

Argis looked back at the wizard angrily, "Because I didn't think it would matter. I was hoping that you could forget his past and just take him from his present onward...like you did with me." Reaching out, the Nord caught the Altmer's hands and said, "Please, love, don't be mad. Let me try to talk to him first. With you, he'll just tell you what you want to hear but he might tell the truth to me."

Squeezing the Nord's hands reassuringly, the wizard sighed and replied, "I know it's not your fault, Argis, and I know I shouldn't blame you. I'll let you talk to him first and see if you can get some truth out of him. I'm still going to talk with him, though. I cannot sit by passively while my husband does everything."

With a wordless nod, they headed for Hjerim. This time, when the door opened it made its customary loud click of unlocking. Ardanthis looked pointedly at Argis and then up the dark stairs and loudly said, "I'm going to make us something to eat."

The Nord took the hint and with a heavy heart he walked up to Calder's room. He didn't know what to say, but he knew that whatever he said would be better than the accusations and disdain that his thane would heap upon the man. He approached the other housecarl's room and gently knocked on the door, which swung open under his touch.

Calder was immediately seated next to the fire with a book in his hands. Looking up at Argis he exclaimed, "I'm surprised that you're both back so soon! Was it a successful hunt then?"

Argis tried to muster a similar amount of cheer, but he knew he failed on that front as he replied, "Yes. Our target had actually ventured out of the vale and was harassing some poor farmer. We saved them and killed the Stormcloak."

Nodding, the red haired warrior asked hesitantly, "Is something wrong, Argis? You seem... off." He closed his book and looked intently at the blonde.

"Yes, we need to talk about something, Calder," said the other warrior with hesitation. He hurriedly continued, "Both Ardanthis and I want to know about – about the Orc you brought in here. Please don't tell me you're still selling yourself, not when you don't have to anymore." The pleading tone in his voice was edged with desperation. Argis truly wanted the other man to deny it, even though he would never believe Calder's words over Ard's.

Running his hands over the leather cover of the book as he looked down at it, Calder blew out a sigh before looking up at Argis. His eyes were as cold as chips of ice as he regarded the other Nord and said, "It's true." Those two words were enough to make Argis' face fall into a an expression of deep dismay, but before the other man could say a thing Calder continued, "I've been making money this way for _years_ Argis, and I'm not dropping it over night for a man I don't know."

"But you can trust-" began Argis before being interrupted.

Calder snapped out, "Can I? I don't know that, Argis. You tell me how wonderful and kind he is, but you sound like a lovesick fool. Have you considered he may only be nice to _you_ because you're his husband? You've only seen him act as a city's thane and as your husband and both of you gratify him. The city showers him with gold and praise, and I'd wager he spears you whenever he gets the inclination. You look down on me for selling myself for gold, but are you that much better? Just because he doesn't hand you a sack of gold at the end of it doesn't mean that all of this," he gestured around the room, "isn't earned from selling yourself."

Half of Argis wanted to colour in embarrassment at Calder's accusations, which rang with an element of truth, but the other half wanted to pale in anger at his presumption.

"Ask yourself why you're up here, Argis," coldly continued the blue eyed Nord, "Ask yourself why my thane isn't up here confronting me about things. We both know that he's no coward, so why are you the one talking to me?"

Exasperated with the other man's needling questions Argis spat, "Because you won't tell Ard the truth and we both know it."

Scowling, Calder shot in reply, "We both know you're here to protect me from him. You're here because he'd sneeringly tell me to leave and shame me in front of the whole city without a shred of remorse. Don't you dare to pretend he's better than he is. You mostly see the kind part of him, but do you really think that's what he mostly is? You choose to believe that's all there is to him and that the ugly half, the one that kills men without a care, is the small fraction."

"You don't know him-" began Argis, but he was cut off by Calder's barked laugh.

With great bitterness the new housecarl asked, "Are you really going to tell me that 'you don't know him!' because you sound like a badly written bard's story character. Maybe _you_ are the one that's blind to his true nature, and not the only one who sees it. I will not give up my independence to a strange man without knowing who I'm giving it to."

Ardanthis' voice suddenly floated in from the doorway where the Altmer stood with a tired expression on his face, "Calder, you have every right to your worries and fear. To be honest, I sent Argis here because I knew that I probably would come in here with anger and conviction. I also knew that you didn't trust me quite the same as you trusted him." He took out a bag of gold and threw it on the table next to Calder, "But perhaps you should consider trusting me first. You didn't give me two days before assuming I was a cold-hearted liar. Are you really that scarred?"

Calder met the wizard's gaze for a moment before softly saying, "I've been in Windhelm long enough to know that honour is something most of the men here tell themselves so they can rest easily at night. I don't count on it for when I need to eat."

Ardanthis shrugged slightly and said, "If that's what the other men of this city are like, then I'm sorry you've been burned so often by them. Maybe you haven't noticed but I'm not from Windhelm, so perhaps I deserve a chance. I hope you understand, however, the complications created when you decide to whore yourself out in Hjerim. Your new position as housecarl does not afford you the luxury of being able to do what you want because your actions reflect on me now. I suggest you try trusting me first and if I fail you then I will honourably discharge you from my service so you resume your old life. Fair enough?"

Regarding the wizard with great suspicion, the red haired Nord nodded.

His expression suddenly turning tight, the Altmer added, "And I don't care what you want to assume about how I feel about Argis, but for what it's worth, I do love him. I didn't just marry him because he's handsome." His face broke into a sly smile as he said, "If it was really about sex, there are always whores around, aren't there?"

The Nord's bitter silence was all the answer that Ard needed.

"I'm glad we've reached some sort of compromise, Calder," said the wizard with a much more genuine smile. He yawned widely before continuing, "I'm going to try to get some sleep before the impending dawn, though."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

AN: Remember, reviews and criticisms are greatly appreciated!


	18. Chapter 18

AN: This chapter will contain NSFW parts and this time the double brackets will not flag them as they have before. Reading other fanfictions, I've noticed that there's a general dislike for author's notes in the middle of the text, and honestly I can see how they throw off the flow of the story. Of course, if you disagree with me feel free to PM me or put it in a review. If other things are irksome or poorly done, please let me know in the reviews.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Ardanthis walked out of Calder's room, greatly pleased with himself for having put the housecarl in his place. He knew that his words had stung the overly cautious Calder, and he retreated to his room with a sense of contentment filling his thoughts. His keen elven hearing was strained as it listened for any snippets of words that the other two men might yet exchange, and the Altmer quietly changed out of the leather armour and sat in a chair as he oiled it while inspecting it for any signs of damage.

Satisfied that there were no overt signs of damage on his armour, he headed for a wash basin and grabbed the cloth that sat next to it. He began to cleanse the dirt off his body when the door slowly creaked open. Argis gave the elf a tired look before stripping his own filthy armour off. Experienced at this kind of labour, Argis had his armour cleaned and neatly piled against one corner of the wall as Ardanthis finished cleaning himself off.

Slipping beneath the covers, the elf watched the warrior as he washed his scarred body. The simple motions moved the warrior's well developed muscles, and the elf rose quietly to his feet from the mattress. He knew the Nord's wash routine so well that he waited for Argis to finish before gently walking around him and embracing the big man in a hug. Argis froze for a moment in surprise before returning the embrace with equal, silent vigour.

Though they pressed their nearly naked forms together, there was nothing erotic about the contact they shared. "It just struck me how stupidly often I've nearly lost you, Argis," whispered the elf into the other man's ear. He choked slightly as he continued, "You said that I took you as you were and didn't ask for me, but you – you also did that for me. You took a man who was running in a strange country and gave him a reason to stand still and build a home. Please Argis, don't ever leave me."

Argis' deep voice was a soft rumble as he replied, "I'll always be here, love. Always. We're both just damaged enough to fill the other in." He smiled slightly as he asked, "But what prompted this? Was it Calder?"

"Yes," breathed the wizard softly, "Maybe... maybe he's just as damaged as us, but he never had someone to fill in his empty places."

Breaking the hug just long enough to lead the wizard to the bed, Argis gently pulled the wizard down next to him and placed his arm over the elf's shoulder. Pulling him in, Argis wordlessly held his thane. He smiled at the seemingly absurd image that they created together. How Windhelm would gossip at the scandal of their thane, the dragonborn no less, simply needing to hold and be held.

Moments like this were the times that utterly refuted the other housecarl's accusations, realized the Nord. Both Argis and Ardanthis had sworn that in the privacy of their bedroom they would just be two people in love without the walls that their respective stations and cultures created. Calder couldn't see their lovemaking as anything but physical gratification for the elf, but Ardanthis tried to please his husband too. Then there were times like this, which revealed that there was so much more to it that the rutting that Calder knew.

Slipping under the covers as the fire burned low in its hearth, they huddled together to share warmth and simply enjoy each other's presence.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Sitting in his own room, Calder quietly seethed at the elf's words. They were insulting and degrading to him, and he would be damned if he let that overblown elf dictate his actions to him. Truthfully, he would have to be more discreet about his business than he had been before. He was angered that Ardanthis had spied on him but he was quietly relieved that the elf only caught him with the one Orc and not the various men who had been in the house earlier in the day.

Calder looked longingly in the direction of the closed door of the thane's room. Argis, the damned fool, just didn't see that the elf was a callous killer. His blood rose slightly as he imagined the elf, even now, having his way with the other man.

It wasn't right! Argis was a proud Nord – anyone could see that – but he let himself be used by this Altmer trash, Calder thought to himself. Couldn't he see that there were so many Nords who would love him faithfully? Couldn't he see he didn't have to settle for the elf? It mattered nothing that the elf was a thane. He had gotten lucky and had moved up through sheer fluke. He hadn't earned a damn thing, not like Argis, who knew suffering.

Why couldn't the other Nord see how like Calder he was? Gods above, they had both fought together! It would only take a little persuasion to convince him to move into to a more suitable relationship.

The red haired Nord's thoughts swirled darkly as he fed the fires slowly. Suddenly, he smiled as he realized he knew exactly how to get Argis to come to him.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The following days passed quietly as the city settled into the control established by the Imperials. The same grumblings that had haunted the city after the last thane's fall gradually grew in a sullen silence as the people adjusted and the new thane promised to shown Windhelm a better future.

Not wishing to outrage the already fractured city, Argis kept his public appearance to that of a dutiful housecarl. The city's taverns buzzed with gossip over the couple, and speculations and opinions ran wild about what went on in Hjerim.

Within that house, Ardanthis and Argis tossed worried theories back and forth regarding Calder who frequented the taverns alone.

The winds that gave the city its name howled fiercely outside Hjerim as the Altmer and Nord lay on their shared bed. Ardanthis lay on his side, his head propped up on his arm and he gently ran a fingertip along Argis' torso as he muttered, "You know we don't know what he's doing out there."

Laying on his back and staring at the ceiling, Argis replied, "Of course we don't know, but you spoke with him and I think we can trust him."

Letting out a gusty sigh, the elf replied, "Are you sure? He didn't seem...convinced of my intentions. And you know I can't have him becoming too publicly associated with us if I can't trust him."

"Why not?" asked Argis with a tinge of annoyance in his voice.

"Because if I did, and he were still doing what he's doing, then we would have a complete scandal and most of whatever fragile reputation we have established in this city will be lost," calmly answered the High Elf.

Argis turned on his side and mirrored his husband's posture before saying, "We don't know what he's doing, love. A man's allowed to go out and drink, isn't he? You can't ask a Nord to not be a Nord!"

His finger quickly moved up to Argis' tattoo and began to slowly trace that as Ard answered, "I asked you to not be a Nord."

Using his free hand Argis gently caught Ard's and said, "I was never like the others though." He continued in a stern voice, "But this isn't about me, this is about Calder."

"Argis," began the elf, "You're always defending him no matter what he does or what I say."

Argis retorted with unexpected heat, "Because you're always attacking him! Everything he does is suspect. Everywhere he goes is a possible disgrace and you're itching to get rid of him."

Ardanthis' emerald eyes locked onto Argis' brown one as he simply asked, "Tell me the truth - do you still love him after all these years?"

The Nord's jaw dropped in shock and he hesitated before answering. A little voice in his head told him that the elf had it right, and that Argis had never given up on his first love. Steeling his resolve, Argis quickly answered, "No, love. Ardanthis, _you_ are the only one my heart desires now. I may have had feelings for him, but that was decades ago and I'm over it." No you're not, said that nagging voice with complete certainty.

His gaze softening, a relieved expression crossed the High Elf's features as he whispered, "Thank you for that, Argis." He leaned forward and kissed his husband deeply.

The wandering finger returned and slid down the Nord's body as the elf asked in the breaks between their kisses, "Up for a little more than kissing?"

Argis answered by pulling his husband on top of him and using both his hands to tug at their loincloths.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Calder grunted as the Argonian hissed in pleasure and slid into him. He tried to breathe deeply and relax as the bright green lizard cock slid in and out of his unprepared self. "Open up, Nord," another Argonian hissed from in front of him. Obliging the green and brown scaled Argonian before him, Calder opened his mouth and took a deep breath a heartbeat before it was filled with the other lizard's member.

Both lizardmen pumped the red haired Nord in a Candlehearth Hall room and the raucous noise that filled the common room covered the pleased hisses that escaped the Argonians. As they were simple dock workers, the Argonians were rough, muscular, and enthusiastic about their time with Calder.

Grunting as the long cock rammed into his prostate and sent a wave of pleasure through him, Calder tried to maintain his focus on the other dick being jammed down his throat. He rarely did business with pairs, but these Argonians had saved up quite a bit of coin and the Nord suspected it was precisely so they could find someone to do anything they wanted to.

What felt like a long time passed, and other than a few barked orders, the Argonians only hissed and moaned in the pleasure they got from Calder's wet heat. The Nord was almost relieved when the dick being shoved down his throat turned into what felt like a tube of steel and the Argonian laughed and said, "The human wants to taste the Hist sap." Moments later the Argonian's thick, hot cum shot down Calder's throat and made the man swallow as fast as he could. The thick organ's pace barely slowed after the ejaculation and the red haired Nord winced in annoyance. Argonians had a lot of stamina, but he couldn't turn them away, not with the coin they were offering.

The other Argonian's first hot load filled the warm confines of Calder's ass, and he resolutely continued to let the lizardmen have their fill of him. Suddenly, a scaly hand belonging to the red and brown Argonian behind him wrapped itself around his dick and began to pump him. While clearly inexperienced, it was pleasurable and the Argonian behind him grunted out, "Cum for us, Nord. Cum for us so you can tell all your damned Nord friends how you took the seed of two Argonians and enjoyed it."

With a particularly loud moan of his own, Calder covered the scaled hand with his own sticky, white expulsion. Clearly the faster of the two, the Argonian slamming his dick down Calder's throat came again with another heady groan.

Swallowing down that load, the Nord became hopeful that he'd be done with the lizard's dick in his mouth so he could breathe easily as the other Argonian rode him. It was going to be a long night with the two very eager lizard men, but Calder would bear it for the coin. He needed it too badly for what he planned.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Ardanthis' sword clanged loudly off of Argis' and he immediately stepped backwards as the Nord rushed towards him. Deftly sidestepping, the Altmer swung his practice blade at Argis' unprotected flank but missed as the warrior continued to rush by.

Digging his boots in, the Nord whirled around and carefully looked at his sparring partner before testing the High Elf's defences with a series of quick jabs. Frantic parries from the High Elf warded off the Nord's blows, but it put the dragonborn on the defensive and Argis pressed the attack.

Both combatants halted as the crunching of footsteps on snow sounded in Hjerim's small courtyard. Turning to look at whoever approached, Ardanthis immediately sheathed his swords and calmly said, "Hello, Calder. We were wondering where you had gone."

Giving the elf a warm smile Calder replied, "I went drinking at the Hall and got a little carried away. Forgive me, my thane."

"Of course," said the wizard with a dismissive wave of his hand. "We were just about to have lunch," he continued.

Picking up on the implied offer, Calder immediately said, "I would be honoured to join you two. Argis here is a master chef and serves excellent fare. The Hall simply cannot compete."

Argis lightly laughed at the compliment, but Ard wasn't sure if the Nord coloured slightly from it or the cold winds.

Entering Hjerim, Ardanthis slipped upstairs to change into some more civilian clothes with the two housecarls trailing him. Slipping into their room and closing the door, Ard and Argis undid the straps and buckles holding their armour down.

Leaving their shared room, Argis headed for the kitchen and called out, "Love, could you make us some restoratives while I get the meal ready? Might as well not be exhausted for the rest of the day."

Calling out and affirmative, the Altmer headed into the room that had once been a scene of gore and horror. Currently, no trace of that lingering murder remained and the air was scented with a mixed aroma from all of the herbs that he kept on the shelves. The magic light he had enchanted glowed to life as he entered the room.

Humming to himself as he entered the room, the wizard swept the necessary reagents off of the shelf and fired up the alembics on the alchemy table with a flick of his hand. Efficiently grinding the reagents to a powder, he quickly mixed them with water before allowing them to simmer over a small fire. The steam from the resulting mixture vented out of the glass container, and resulting distillation was collected in two separate vials. The Altmer tried to give the mixture a swirl, and winced at the thick, syrupy texture. Quickly adding more water, he corked the vials with his thumb and shook them vigorously until they were of a much more palatable consistency.

He extinguished the fires with another wave of his hand and quickly left the room, still humming to himself. He returned to the dining hall to find it set for three, but Calder was not waiting at his usual place. Leaving the restoratives on the table the wizard quietly stepped over to the kitchen doorway.

A grimace of dismay clouded his features for a moment as he beheld Calder standing so close to Argis. Easily overhearing their conversation, he discovered they discussed nothing more sinister than which spices to include in the potato and leek soup, but their sheer proximity gave him an unreasoning anger. Silently letting out his breath, the wizard reminded himself that Calder was just being nice and entered the kitchen. He stepped back and retrieved the vials of green liquid before handing one of them to Argis, he popped the cork on his own before they both swallowed it in one gulp.

Sighing as the reinvigorating concoction swept through his system, Argis smiled at his husband and said, "Soup's almost ready. Did you know Calder's not half bad at cooking, Ard?"

The wizard returned Argis' smile with forced energy and said, "No. I'm surprised he never mentioned it, though."

"Well I don't like to brag," began the red hair Nord before a knock at the door cut him off. Calder immediately said, "I'll see who it is," before rushing off.

Stirring the potion and peering at its contents, Argis murmured, "I know you're not enthused about this, love. You're putting on a good show, but I can still tell you don't trust him."

Ardanthis opened his mouth, uncertain of whether he was going to deny or admit to his husband's accusation when Calder re-entered. He handed a neatly folded letter to Ardanthis and said with a little laugh, "You're in high demand these days, my thane."

"Read it out for us," requested the blonde Nord as he stirred the soup.

Clearing his throat, Ardanthis read off, "To the newly appointed thane of Windhelm. First and foremost I would like to extend my congratulations on your role in returning Skyrim to the Empire. I can only hope your noble deeds have brought you great rewards, but I've heard that you're yet willing to do more great acts for those with coin and loyalty to the Empire. Having recently arrived in Windhelm from the Imperial City, I was accosted as my carriage made its way to this magnificent city by a devilish brute of an Orc. He wailed something unintelligible at my escort, and killed two of my guards with the largest steel hammer I have ever seen before being driven off. One of my men trailed discreetly behind him as he fled and tracked the man to Darkhollow Cave. Surely we cannot permit a bandit of such ferocity to remain near Windhelm, can we? I will dispense a large sum of gold upon proof of this creature's demise. Should you choose to accept this charge as your own, I would warn you that the Orc appears to be deaf, but not dumb. The man who tracked him oafishly broke a branch by his own admission but the brute never noticed. My friends within the city tell me that you frequently travel with heavily armoured men on these kinds of outings. I suggest stealth, as the Orc may outmatch even their strength. Imploringly yours, Marrinus Viraro."

A moment of silence descended over the group as Ardanthis finished the letter. "Well, he's definitely as long winded as an Imperial," chuckled Argis.

"Have you heard of this 'Marrinus Viraro' before, Calder?" asked the wizard.

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, the housecarl answered, "No, but many Imperials are flocking to Skyrim to either rebuild it or to govern it now that the war is over. He could easily be new to the city."

Ardanthis sighed and threw the letter on the table, "If we really do have a lone madman this close to the city, I need to deal with him. The guards are too busy quelling the last of the Stormcloak diehards, and he might escape them all if they come crashing towards him."

"I don't like the idea of you going alone," said Calder with evident concern in his voice. He continued, "If the Orc is deaf, like the letter claims, then taking one of us along should not be a concern."

"We can't risk him hearing anyone, though. He killed two warriors without aid, so no, Calder. I won't risk either of you," replied the elf.

Argis finished stirring the soup and said, "Don't be overconfident, Ard. Play it safe and take one of us with you."

"No," the wizard said with finality, "I'm not risking your lives on something I can do more safely on my own."

With a worried sigh Argis beckoned them over to eat and they sat down to a quiet meal. Only the crackling of the fire accompanied them until Argis finally asked, "When are you leaving, love?"

Ardanthis hesitated and asked, "Calder, where is Darkhollow Cave?"

"Two days' journey to the south east," he answered quickly, "There's been very little Stormcloak activity in that direction, so you should be able to make good time."

Pursing his lips, the Altmer said, "I should leave today then. It's just after noon, so I'll make good time."

"Gods, you never sit still," grumbled Argis. Quickly rising and heading towards the kitchen, he said over his shoulder, "Did you even think out what you were going to eat? Of course not." His tone was jovial as he packed non-perishable foodstuffs into a pack.

Dashing up the stairs to his room, Ardanthis quickly slipped on the armour he had just taken off a short while ago. Strapping his two steel swords to his hips, he came back down to find Argis standing by the door holding a backpack.

Ard handed Calder the map of Windhelm's surrounding area and asked, "Could you mark down the cave for me?"

Nodding silently, Calder studied the map for a moment and drew a small X where the cave was. He handed the map back to Ardanthis, who carefully placed it in his pack after folding it. With a quick kiss for Argis he softly said, "I'll return soon. Maybe I'll be lucky twice and he'll meet me on the road."

Rolling his eyes Argis added, "And he'll fall on your blades too, won't he?" Catching the wizard's hand he whispered softly, "Please be safe, Ardanthis."

"I will," earnestly replied the wizard, "We've been through so much together, this lone Orc won't even slow me down."

With those words he turned and left the house.

Argis closed the door behind the rapidly disappearing form of the Altmer with a heavy sigh. "He'll be fine," remarked Calder after clapping Argis' shoulder.

"I just don't know what to do now. We always go together," muttered the warrior with dismay.

With a wolfish smile Calder suggested, "Spar with me."

"What?" asked Argis with momentary confusion.

"Spar with me," repeated the red hair warrior. "You know that you're going to be distracted with worry until you physically get it out of your system, so spar with me."

A slow-spreading smile crept across Argis' features for a moment before he nodded and said, "I think I will." Rushing up to his room, the blonde Nord quickly rushed to armour himself.

Grinning and following him, Calder hurried into his small room and also armed himself.

"It's strange we've never once touched blades," Argis commented as he watched the other warrior thump down the stairs.

With a slight shrug, Calder said, "I've never been asked."

Stepping out into the bright sunlight, Argis looked with confusion at Calder's lone sword. "No shield? Not even a dagger to parry with?" he asked.

Calder let out a confident laugh and said, "Who needs a dagger or a shield if you're good enough with just the sword?"

They quickly settled into their combat stances and sized the other up. Their first swings were cautious and easily countered, but they quickly ramped up to a clanging combat pace. Argis' confidence in his ability to best Calder grew with each clash of their swords. Though the other Nord was faster on his feet than Ardanthis' husband, Calder lacked the deft control over his single blade that he needed to get around Argis' shield.

Deciding to end the battle now that it had been going on for some time now, Argis rushed towards Calder and ducked under his horizontal cut and bashed the edge of his shield into the back of his opponent's knee. With a surprised grunt, Calder fell over and stopped trying to rise when he felt the keen edge of Argis' blade at his neck.

"Well...done..." Calder sputtered in between gasps.

Breathing heavily himself, Argis replied, "That is why I believe a shield is superior to a free hand."

Sheathing his blade, Argis extended his hand and helped the housecarl to his feet. Calder winced and stumbled, but Argis caught him before he could fall. "Damn," he swore, "I think your shield did some real damage to my knee."

Argis felt a flush of shame as he supported the other man to a chair just inside the door. He swore to himself and wished that Ardanthis had waited just one more night to leave because the wizard's magic could have restored Calder's knee in short order.

As it was, the red haired Nord could only sit in the chair and gingerly unbuckle the greaves from his legs. Quickly coming to an idea, Argis announced, "I'm going to get you a healing potion." In spite of Calder's protests, the other Nord rushed to the small alchemy room and looked with dismay at the nearly bare shelves. He had forgotten that most of the restoratives he had were in the pack he gave Ardanthis. A lone little bottle of crimson liquid sat on the shelf and carried the potion back to the injured housecarl.

"It's all we have left," said Argis apologetically as he handed the potion to Calder.

A grateful nod from the red haired Nord and a wince were Argis' only reply as Calder quickly downed the restorative. Heaving a relieved sigh, Calder smiled as he rubbed his knee and said, "Oh that's better already... but could you help me to a chair closer to the fire?"

Argis knew the potion wasn't enough to restore Calder that fast, but he appreciated the other Nord's effort to alleviate his guilt. He quickly shuffled two of the ornate chairs into position before the fire and rushed back to Calder, who was standing with a pained look on his face and bracing himself on the chair he had previously sat on. Slipping under Calder's arm, Argis helped the other Nord to a chair before the fire, and the pained expressions that Calder was clearly trying to suppress send pangs of shame through him.

Calder slipped his gloves off with a relieved sigh and cast them aside. Following his example Argis began to remove his armour and piled it neatly in front of his seat where he could methodically ensure it remained in good repair.

A nervous chuckle escaped Calder as he hesitantly asked, "Argis, could you help get my breastplate off? I can't reach any of it from where I'm sitting."

Nodding eagerly, the blonde housecarl slipped the last piece of armour off of himself and moved quickly to help Calder. He efficiently undid the last straps and helped the other housecarl remove his protective steel.

Argis quickly stepped back and sat into his chair and focused on his armour in an attempt to focus his thoughts. Calder mirrored his motions and soon the scrape of whetstones complemented the crackle of the fireplace as the pair sharpened their swords.

First to break the silence, Calder said, "You know, I always wondered what Markarth was like after I left."

"You didn't miss much," replied Argis with a snort. He examined his blade's edge in the light for a moment before continuing, "It was a seething pit of vipers that was never really shown until you slipped a little."

Calder cast a curious glance at Argis and asked, "Tell me about it anyway. I missed so many years of that city's life. Strangely enough, I miss it a little."

Smiling wryly at the newly polished blade he was holding Argis nodded and said, "I do too. Despite what the people there did to me, there was something that shaped me there. And it was there I met with Ardanthis."

"Tell me about the city. It'll pass the time if nothing else," implored Calder.

Argis obliged him and began to tell Calder of his life. With Calder asking the odd question, he prodded Argis' tale along and listened carefully. The red haired housecarl eventually coughed and said, "Could you get me a drink, my knee still pains me. And if I'm thirsty you must be dry too!"

He was so absorbed in his own memories that Argis realized that the other Nord was telling the truth. He _was_ thirsty and there was plenty of mead in Hjerim, a gift for the victorious Dragonborn from the grateful Imperials, which Argis didn't hesitate to fetch. Pushing a small side table between the two chairs, Argis placed several bottles between the two Nords. Grinning, he said, "I'm enjoying telling my tales too much. Maybe I should go to Solitude and become a bard." Calder chuckled and reached for a bottle of mead.

Not a moment behind him, Argis grabbed the bottle and popped the cork out. Tilting his head back he drank half the bottle in a few long swallows, easing away the day's stresses. When he opened his good eye again, he saw Calder's surprised face looking back at him as he sipped his own mead.

The red haired Nord's expression shifted into a grin as he said, "You once said you liked the mercenaries more than the Jarl's court and I've always wondered why. What made them better than the honourable men of the Jarl's court?"

"Divines, spending so many years travelling was truly an adventure," murmured Argis. He paused for a moment before beginning to tell his tales to his one man audience, who always had a bottle of mead ready to ease the dryness from Argis' throat.

The blonde Nord quickly lost track of time as he told of his numerous travels and how they took him across most of Skyrim. He was only slightly startled when Calder asked with a playful wink, "And were any of them as good off duty as on?"

Argis chuckled in reply and the mead fogging his mind let him answer, "More than a few were good!"

"Tell me about them," said Calder in the same lightly cheerful tone as when he had asked to know about the battles, "They happened before you even met our thane, so it's not like there's anything wrong with them, and you surely must have met some nice ones in your travels."

Though Argis initially murmured a protest but after only a little more cajoling from Calder he began to tell of his partners. The stories flowed easily, and they both laughed as Argis told of the various discrete courtships and bawdy offers that he had been a part of. It wasn't long before he was describing the things that made lovers memorable to him.

"And the Khajiit had apparently slept his way through half of the officers – male and female – before getting to me. Divines, was he ever good at positioning us both to get us the most out of it," concluded Argis as he took another chug from his bottle of mead. Calder's unwavering attention and perfectly timed questions drew Argis' attention to how the other Nord's deep red hair contrasted perfectly with his crystalline blue eyes, which never wavered or grew disinterested in his tales.

As he continued to tell Calder about the men he had been with, he began to imagine Calder in the all the positions he was describing. Desperately trying clear his head of those images, he paused his tales to take another swallow of mead. When he lowered the bottle his eyes could not help but notice how sharp the other Nord's features were and how his muscles showed through his shirt. A familiar stirring in his loins both excited and terrified him as he resumed speaking.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Far away from the warm confines of Hjerim, Ardanthis cheerfully walked beneath the starry night sky. Warm from the brisk pace he was keeping up, he carefully kept an eye on his surroundings as he crunched on the snow that surrounded Windhelm. He breathed in the brisk air and grinned at himself. It wasn't long ago when the cold had seemed intolerable to him, but the clarity it seemed to provide made his lost life on Summerset Isle seem not an unbearable loss.

Knowing that he would need to rest soon so as to be fresh for the following day, Ardanthis stopped in the next thick copse of trees and set up his tent. Relying on the trees to break the wind and keep him from getting too cold, the High Elf inscribed runes on the ground just outside of his tent, in order to protect him from any predatory animals and bandits.

Despite being heavily shrouded by the thick branches around him, Ard tried to minimize his chance of being discovered by lighting only a small fire. Using a simple cantrip, he lit a rock on fire and fed it enough magicka that it would burn through the night and ward off the cold.

As he unpacked the food that Argis had given him he casually wondered what the pair were up to. The warmth of the fire was caught by the small confines of the tent and the comforting scent of the trees quickly pushed all thoughts from the Altmer's head. He double checked his wards once more before slipping off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Argis didn't know how long he had been telling of his exploits but each story seemed to cheer each of them with each telling, so he didn't stop. "And then the Dunmer finished in the Bosmer and bent over and asked me to go at him. I told him I was nearly done but he didn't care – he just wanted it in him!" Argis and Calder laughed even though Argis was unsure as to what he was actually laughing at. Calder's throaty chuckle ended with his hand on Argis' knee and the other warrior's first instinct was to brush it off, but something stopped him. The other Nord's expression didn't change as he continued to grin at Argis as though nothing were out of the ordinary.

Blood rushed to Argis' loins as Calder asked in a soft voice, "Tell me how you came in him."

Argis licked his lips and quickly said, "He wasn't prepared but didn't want to wait. I just slammed into him over and over. I lasted longer than I thought and he came again on the bed. I didn't last long after that, I just packed him with it and jammed it in deep. He must've walked strange for a week."

Suddenly, Calder leaned forward – when had his chair moved so close to Argis'? – and kissed the other Nord. Argis groaned in appreciation as their tongues slid across each other. He knew it was wrong in some part of his mind, but he was too drunk to think of how it could be wrong.

Calder rose from his seat, showing that his knee had evidently recovered, and straddled Argis' legs with his own. It only took a moment, which was just enough to suck in a breath before the red head reconnected with Argis' lips.

As if of their own accord, the blonde Nord's hands rose up and placed themselves on Calder's hips. One of Calder's hands entangled itself in Argis' hair as his free hand deftly undid the laces of the other housecarl's breeches. The hand flicked up for a moment and pulled Argis' shirt up to expose the man's strong abs. The hand darted back down and a small tug on Argis' loincloth freed his erection. He grunted in surprise as he felt Calder's hand wrap around it.

Starting slowing, Argis felt the hand softly move up and down his manhood before Calder truly began to display his dexterity. The hand pumped up and down, and the hand varied from long strokes to stimulating the head while thumbing the slit.

"We shouldn't-" Argis tried to begin against Calder's lips, but the crushing kiss continued.

Calder pulled his mouth away for a moment and gasped out, "Don't think." His hand continued to pleasure Argis and the blonde Nord could acutely feel Calder's desire to pleasure him. Bucking and thrusting into the red haired Nord's hand Argis began to moan into Calder's mouth.

His manhood grew harder under Calder's touch and in response Calder increased his pace. Argis groaned loudly as he came in a few white spurts over Calder's hand and his own abs. The elated rush quickly vanished as he realized what he had done. Pushing Calder back he looked with horror at Calder's wet hand and the liquid, white evidence which lay splattered upon his own body.

"No. No, this can't happen," he snarled in disbelief. Calder's face collapsed into a confused expression as Argis continued to talk to himself, "What have I done, oh Divines, what have I done?"

The red haired Nord had not expected his love to fall into such a confused state. This wasn't how it was supposed to be, Calder thought to himself as he watched Argis frantically head to the kitchen and scrub his own cum off of himself.

"This can _never_ happen again," spat Argis before hurrying up the stairs.

Confused, Calder sat down by the dying fire and finished the dregs of both their meads as the other Nord disappeared behind the locked door of the master bedroom.

Away from Calder, Argis sat down on the edge of the bed and buried his face in his hands. He felt disgusted with himself for betraying his husband with another man, and in that quiet moment away from Calder he hated himself for what he had done to Ardanthis. He's been gone for one night, and already you're involving yourself with another man, he thought disbelievingly to himself.

He didn't move from that position for the entire night, nor did Argis sleep a wink. His self-disgust kept him from any comfort that could have offered him.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The following day met a haggard looking and very hungover Argis shambling through his morning. He made himself a simple gruel before returning to the cold comfort of his room. He ate slowly while he stared into the fire that cheerfully burned in the hearth for a long time before a soft knock at his door turned his attention away from the flames.

Calder edged into the room and looked pityingly at the other man. Argis only cast him a hateful glare before returning his gaze to the fire. Not knowing how to handle such hatred, Calder merely backed out of the room and left the man he loved alone. He quietly wondered how it had gone so wrong.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Ardanthis found the cave shortly after the dawn of the second day and approached it cautiously. He slipped through the brush as silently as he could and watched the entrance for a short while. Seeing no one enter or exit he slipped towards the beckoning darkness.

Darting inside, he immediately pressed himself against a wall to reduce his profile. He watched the darkness ahead suspiciously as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. After the necessary time had passed, he edged down the tunnel and into the deep darkness before him.

The cave seemed to be a simple one, and the roughly straight tunnel gradually dug into the earth before levelling out. Far off in the distance a small light glimmered, and Ard moved along the tunnel towards the source of the light. The irregular walls provided the elf with a great deal of cover, and he made sure to take advantage of it as he approached what he saw to be a fire.

He grinned to himself as he approached the bonfire, for a figure was sitting in a chair in front of the blazing fire. The smell of roasting skeever hit his nose as he approached the hunched Orc. Soundlessly drawing his blades, the elf tensed himself and sprung at Orc, triumphantly burying his blades in the Orc's chest.

The heavily armoured body caught the Altmer's blades and dragged him towards the fire as it toppled over. Surprise and alarm crossed Ard's features as the fire revealed he had struck down nothing more than a dummy, and the heavy thud of approaching steps warned him of the trap he had sprung.

Ard desperately tugged at his blades and just managed to free them before throwing himself to the side and rolling. The Orc's heavy hammer whooshed through the air where the elf had been mere moments ago. Cloaked in shadows and the flickering light of the fire, the Orc chuckled and said, "Stupid elf. You should've stayed still. Now it's only going to be worse for you."

Rolling to his feet, Ard held both of his blades before him and wordlessly glared at the heavily armed and armoured figure in front of him. The Orc charged him, and furiously swept the steel hammer back and forth in a dazzling display of skill. Ard gasped as he deflected and dodged what blows he could, but the few attacks that did clip him sent him staggering back. His opponent was not tiring but was quickly wearing the elf out.

A careless mistake caught one of Ard's blades in the spikes of the Orc's hammer and ripped it from his grasp. Desperately trying to stave off the crushing strikes of the warhammer, Ardanthis wielded his sole blade to the best of his ability. There was no time to conjure any spells with the pressure he was under, and he was losing the duel quickly without his other weapon. The Orc only laughed at the High Elf as his hammer knocked the other weapon from the wizard's grasp.

Predictably, Ard lunged for the fallen weapon and the Orc backhanded the elf. Dazed and lying on his side, the wizard struggled to get to his feet but the heavy boot of the Orc slammed into his gut and knocked the wind out of him.

Unexpectedly, Ard heard a heavy clunk as the hammer hit the ground, "I told you that you should have died quickly, elf. It would have been better for you."

Ard didn't understand until he felt the Orc's fingers begin to remove his leggings. The Orsimer's heavy breathing told the Altmer of his intent, and as the Orc removed his own pants it became perfectly clear what he intended to do.

Another dark chuckle emerged as the Orc snarled, "Not so high and might now are you, elf?"

In his dazed state Ard desperately looked for a way out.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

AN: Again, all criticisms and suggestions are welcome in the reviews.


	19. Chapter 19

AN: I'd like to apologize to all of my readers for the colossal delays between updates. There's a good reason, though, I swear! I've actually started writing my own book with an original setting and characters and that's what's been eating up my time and creative energy. I have no abandoned this fic, though.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Argis quietly cursed the mead for not working well enough. Despite how much he had drunk, he could still recall with perfect clarity what he had done the night before. He could still feel the other man's warm touch and the momentary flash of joy from his betrayal. Self-disgust washed over him as he recalled the warmth and passion of the moment. "Your husband is out there risking his life and you break his trust so quickly?" he murmured to himself.

He looked away from the hearth's low fire as he heard a small thud at his door. It swung open to reveal a stone faced Calder carrying a large tray of steaming food. "Get out," said Argis with quiet force.

Setting the tray down on the small table in the room, Calder nodded and turned to leave. At the doorway he hesitated and cast a glance back at Argis, saying, "It's not your fault. We were both drunk."

"Get. Out," spat the blonde Nord as he watched the door close behind Calder. The smell of the freshly cooked rabbit legs and grilled leeks that were on the table slowly filled the room and Argis' stomach rumbled hungrily.

He looked sullenly at the steaming meal and tried to decide whether he hated Calder enough to overcome the lethargy which seemed to have settled over him like a cloak. After a moment's hesitation, he grunted and pushed himself off of the bed and walked over to the table where he sat down with a thud. Listlessly, he pushed the food around the plate but he couldn't find any sort of appetite to eat.

Returning his gaze to the fire, the Nord sat down on the edge of his bed and worried over the future.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"You thought you were quiet, didn't you? Thought I wouldn't hear. You'll pay for that, little elf," snarled the Orc.

Spitting a viscous glob of blood and other bodily fluids onto the ground in front of him, Ardanthis tried to lunge forward and away from his assailant. I have to find my calm, he desperately thought as fear clawed at the edges of his mind.

The Orc's hand lashed out and snagged the elf's belt. With a heavy grunt the burly orc dragged the slender elf back towards him and then used that same grip to drag the elf's pants down. "Still got some fight left in you, eh?" the Orsimer chuckled, "I like that in my elves. You usually pass out before the fun sta-" His bragging was cut off as Ard took advantage of the Orc's distraction and blindly lashed out with his foot. Though it felt like he connected with solid stone, the Orsimer's pained grunt told him he did some sort of damage.

Rolling onto his back, Ardanthis sucked in a deep breath and found the energy boiling deep in his chest. "FU-" he began before the Orc's fist flashed forward with astounding speed and slammed into his gut. The rest of the Shout vanished in a pained gasp as the air was knocked out of him again.

"That hurt, you long eared rat, but if you want to look at me while I take you I can work with that. The only thing you're going to shout is how you want me harder" growled the Orc with a rough laugh as he finished pulling down his pants and revealed his excited state. Ripping the elf's loin cloth off, the Orc gripped the elf's ankles and spread Ard's legs while pushing them back.

A sudden drop in the air's temperature was all the warning the Orc got before Ard slapped his hands on the looming Orc's chest and a massive spike of ice drove into the Orcish armour.

The Orc was knocked back by the force of the blast, and tried to recover from the arcane assault. Not bothering to rise, Ardanthis' hands flared as lightning coursed into the Orsimer's body, which caused the other man to collapse in twitching heap. Skittering back from the uncoordinated flailing of the Orc, the High Elf rose to his feet and pulled his pants up.

Still shuddering, the Orc tried to lurch to his feet, but another burst of lightning dropped him back to the ground. An icy blue mist drifted off of the wizard's hands as he stared at the Orc and remained well out of arm's reach. He brought his hands together and let the blue mists flow together before snapping his hands apart. A massive spear of ice shot with unerring accuracy towards the fallen Orc and punched through his armour.

Giving a shocked gasp as the javelin of ice punched through his gut, the Orc coughed blood and vainly grasped at the shard of ice protruding from his gut. "Die, monster," spat Ardanthis in a voice colder than the ice which impaled the Orc. The sound of crystallizing ice resonated through the cavern's air and was punctuated with the _snap!_ of more ice being shot into the Orc's body.

A choked sob wound out of the elf's throat as he shot more spears of ice into the red slush that he had reduced the Orc's corpse to. With a deep breath, he fired one more blast into the dead Orc's head before turning away from the fallen body. Retrieving his swords and loin cloth with shaking hands, he sheathed his weapons and dressed himself before walking out of the dark cave.

Back under the brilliant light, Ard sucked in a deep breath of cold air as he tried to fully grasp what had nearly happened. Blowing out the breath, he retrieved his pack and shrugged it on. He struggled for a moment as he sought to tighten the cinches on the pack before he realized that there was nothing wrong with the pack, only with his hands. He concentrated on his hands, which still shook slightly, and breathed slowly until they stilled.

What could have been is not what happened, he thought sternly to himself. He closed his eyes for another moment and felt the wind on his face. Opening his eyes slowly he strode away from the cave and back along the path that had taken him there.

He tried to imagine what his husband and housecarl were doing back at their home and he smiled faintly at the image of Argis and Calder reading books with bored expressions. He knew neither man was meant to stay still for a long stretch of time and he let the smallest trace of a mischievous smile play over his features as he imagined them waiting.

The sharp scent of a juniper bush caught his attention as he walked, and he stopped to quickly pluck several bunches of berries off of the trees. Argis might want to try to make a potion out of the berries, and the markets had largely been bare of them.

Another small smile, this one slightly larger, crossed his features as he hurried towards home. The warmth of Hjerim's hearth would be a very welcome sensation after his constant time in the cold. Even Calder's presence would be a welcome relief after what that Orc had nearly done.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

A bottle flew through the air and shattered against the kitchen wall as Argis roared, "Don't you _dare_ say that!"

The blonde Nord's face was flushed red from all of the mead he had drunk, and he glowered murderously at Calder. Sparing a glance back at spray of glass and mead that was splattered over the wall and floor, Calder immediately stammered, "I meant that he only loves you as much as an Altmer can, and not in the true way of the Nords!"

"Liar!" shouted Argis with a touch of a drunk slur in his words, "You tricked me, you bastard. You made me betray my husband, who loved me before we ever came to this godsforsaken house."

With a sharp gesture towards his own chest, Calder pleaded, "And I loved you before you ever met him!"

"That was over a decade ago!" countered Argis.

"But you still love me," softly said Calder as he held out a hand.

After a moment, Argis snarled, "No! What happened last night was a mistake, damn you."

"Was it really?" asked Calder simply.

"Shut up!" snapped the bigger Nord as he took a shaky step backwards.

"There is no shame in following your heart, Argis," imploringly whispered Calder as he watched Argis' resolve visibly shake. The blonde's gaze flicked between Calder's outstretched hand and his brilliant blue eyes. With a snarl of self-disgust he swept away from the other man and thundered up the stairs.

Calder let out a long, disappointed sigh as he watched the man he loved turn away. His outstretched hand slowly curled into a fist as he retracted it towards himself. Late last night Argis had begun to drink himself into a violent stupor, and every last attempt to communicate with him only resulted in screamed threats.

When he moved slowly and quietly, Calder had stood outside of the master bedroom and listened to the drunken ramblings and the odd sob that could be heard through the thick wooden door. His own heart nearly broke as he listened to Argis damn himself, damn Calder, and murmur apologies to the fire which still burned low in the hearth.

Doubt tried to find cracks in his love for Argis, but Calder knew that the other Nord would quickly come around after the damned elf was out of the picture. He didn't doubt the Orc's cunning and ability to get the job done, and he didn't doubt his own ability to be there to catch Argis when the elf's influence over him dropped away.

He cooked himself a simple pot of stew by throwing whatever was convenient into the steel cauldron and put it over the fire. Without emotion or interest, he stirred the stew until he figured it was close enough to being done. After serving himself, he sat down to let it cool as he ate. The rest of the meal he left in the pot and left the pot over hot coals. Quietly, he hoped that Argis would come down and eat something. So far, the big man had only taken bottle after bottle of mead into the room he shared with that filthy elf and hadn't taken any real food since their conflict the previous night.

Calder continually cast nervous glances towards the door, the red haired housecarl nervously feared that the elf may have somehow bested the Orsimer he had hired. He fiddled with the stew in the bowl in front of him as terrifying thoughts of the Altmer banishing him from city rang out in his mind.

Blowing out a deep sigh he frowned into his stew as he forced himself to eat it. The heavy thud of feet coming down the stairs drew his gaze to the kitchen doorway as he heard Argis approach.

Argis didn't even look at Calder as he stepped into the room, gave the stew pot a passing glance, and then left with several bottles of mead tucked under his arm.

The red haired Nord winced as he saw how matted Argis' hair looked and the wasted, haunted look that clung to his features. He waited quietly as he continued to eat his stew and heard the door to the master bedroom slam shut.

He couldn't let this stand. Rising slowly from the chair he took off his boots before he walked up the stairs and padded quietly towards the door. Knocking lightly on the door he called out, "Argis."

Silence was his only reply, so he tried once more and knocked slightly louder than before and called more forcefully.

"Leave!" roared the man from inside as Calder heard a glass bottle explode against the door.

Shaking his head sadly, Calder answered, "I'm leaving Hjerim for a time. Try to eat something so our thane has someone to come home to."

He turned away from the door and loudly walked away. He darted into his room and grabbed his nearly empty coinpurse before returning to the kitchen. Thrusting his feet into his boots he stepped out into the brisk winds and bright sunlight of the city.

Fingering his purse he headed towards the Dunmer's Corner club. He knew how he could earn a little extra coin.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Ardanthis walked briskly towards Windhelm and his anticipation built with each step. After spending another lonely night out in the chilly forests, he looked forward to the warmth of Hjerim. The peace of home called to him in a way that he could not ignore and he focused on happy images of Argis' face lighting up with laughter to distract himself from the memories of the Orsimer's face twisted with lust.

The morning light glinted brightly off of the spears and armour of the Imperial soldiers who were stationed on the large, icy bridge that led into the city. The faceless nature of the helmets unnerved the Altmer slightly, but the guards nodded respectfully to him and let him pass without question.

Quickly turning left as he entered the wide open gates of the city Ardanthis slowed down as he wandered through the large market. The crowd here was made up almost exclusively of Nords and their loud voices rang throughout the large square. Various smells drifted past his nose, ranging from cooking food to smelting iron, and the elf smiled as he settled back into the city's embrace.

Fat snowflakes fell slowly from above but they were ignored by the hardy marketplace goers who continued to haggle as if the sun were shining brightly.

The Altmer passed out of the noise and smells of the marketplace and into the solemn silence of the graveyard. He tread carefully down the sometimes-slippery stairs as he passed the ancient graves that were within the city's walls.

Bounding joyfully up the next flight of stairs, he looked down the long path towards Hjerim. Each side of the road held the great manors of prominent citizens, but Ardanthis breezed past them without sparing them a glance.

He quickly passed through the gate in the low wall surrounding his home and already had his key in hand as he approached the door. With a loud click he unlocked the door and entered.

The gloomy stillness of the house immediately struck him. Where was the cheerfully blazing fire? Where was the scent of cooking? The faint scent of some sort of stew drifted through the air but it was hardly noticeable. Ard looked to the hearth and saw that the fire there was banked and low, little more than glowing coals.

His gaze flicked around Hjerim's central room and the Altmer took in the mess that covered the central table. Taking a step forward, his boot hit an empty mead bottle and sent it rolling across the floor. Worry flared in his breast as he called icy magicka to his hands and quietly prepared to face whatever force had struck his home.

A figure seated in front of the fire, previously indistinguishable in the gloom but stirred by the sound of the rolling bottle, rose to his feet. Although half of his face was draped in shadow, Ardanthis could make out the other half of Calder's face.

"Calder?" he asked cautiously, half expecting the other man to be under some sort of spell.

The other man's face broke out into a strained grin and he immediately answered, "It's good to have you back, my thane!"

Ignoring the Nord's cheerful greeting, Ardanthis immediately asked, "What in Oblivion happened to this place? Where's Argis?"

"Argis is in your room, but he isn't feeling well, thane," diplomatically answered the Nord.

Narrowing his gaze, the Altmer quietly noted, "You didn't answer my first question. What happened to this place?"

Calder's smile faltered slightly, but he quickly reinforced it and said, "Argis and I have had a slight disagreement and we haven't been able to resolve it quite yet."

The temperature in the room noticeably dropped as Ard stalked forward and hissed, "Did you hurt him?"

The red haired Nord's gaze nervously flicked between the icy blue wisps drifting from between Ardanthis' clenched fists and the elf's intent features. "No, my thane. I haven't hurt your husband," he answered slowly and clearly. "Perhaps," he hesitantly ventured, "Perhaps it would be best if you spoke to him yourself. He's waiting in your room."

Ardanthis cast one last suspicious look at Calder before he hurried up the stairs. The gloom continued throughout this part of the house too, and only the faint light coming in the narrow windows illuminated the upper floor.

The elf hesitated before the closed door to his room. He knocked on it gently and called out his husband's name in a soft voice. There was no answer from within, and Ard refused to let the silence stretch any longer. With a soft click, he turned the doorknob and opened the door with a small push.

Their shared room, normally lit by a roaring fire, was only dimly lit by the glow of a small flame in the hearth. Argis had his back hunched as he stared into the fire that crackled weakly in front of him. In that faint light the scars on his face were cast into sharp relief by the firelight.

"Argis!" exclaimed Ardanthis happily as he rushed toward the big Nord.

The housecarl didn't react except to lower his eyes as the Altmer embraced him. "Argis, _what's wrong_?" desperately asked the elf as he moved to stand in front of his husband.

"I'm sorry, love, I'm so, so sorry," choked out Argis in a voice thick with emotion.

Ardanthis smoothed the other man's matted hair and said, "What are you sorry for? Are you hurt?"

Immediately after asking that question he waved his hand and a ball of light drifted up to the chandelier and hung there, dispelling the gloom that cloaked the room. In the newly cast light, Ardanthis was able to clearly see the many empty mead bottles that littered the floor.

"I betrayed you," Argis said breathily as if he could barely manage to force the words past his lips.

Confused and worried all at once, Ard demanded, "Tell me what's going on here! What do you mean you betrayed me?"

Argis didn't raise his head but instead directed his words to the floor as he said, "I got drunk and I let Calder pleasure me."

Outrage flared over the elf's features as he sharply bellowed, "I leave you alone for a few days and that's all it took for you-" He bit the rest of his words off an let and angry silence fall over the room.

Calder had slipped up the stairs behind the elf with every trace of stealth he could manage, and he grinned wickedly as he heard Ardanthis shouting at his husband. Good. Let the elf destroy their marriage, he thought to himself.

In a much softer voice Calder had to strain to hear, Ardanthis murmured, "Oh Divines, you still love him." It was clear that it was a statement and not a question.

"I don't know," said Argis as his gaze returned to the fire, "I do, but not as much as you."

To the elf's green eyes his husband seemed to be smaller than he was before. His frame was still as large and powerful as ever, but the hollows under his eyes spoke of his complete exhaustion.

Ardanthis glared down at Argis and his words seemed to get stuck in his throat. He wanted to shout at the Nord and condemn him for his faithless behaviour. He wanted to reduce Calder to a smoking heap of ash. He wanted to be alone so he could try to understand all the feelings racing through him.

Something in Argis' words and posture spoke to Ardanthis, though. Regret dripped off of the exhausted Nord and the blonde seemed to be wrapped up in his own misery. The elf relaxed fists he wasn't even aware he had made and let out a shuddering breath. "I forgive you because I love you," he softly said. The Nord had hurt himself with his regret worse than anything Ardanthis could have ever done.

Argis' head snapped up, and a glimmer of hope flickered in his brown eye and he hoarsely asked, "What?" His voice was thick with hope and hesitation.

In an equally hoarse voice, Ardanthis restated, "I forgive you because I love you." The words seemed to weigh more in his throat and made it nearly impossible to actually say them.

Shock and outrage coloured Calder's face as he gaped at the elf's words. How!? The elf's cold pride had been brutally wounded! With his love shown to be a sham he should be outraged. The soft sound of the High Elf's steps heading towards the doorway made Calder tense, but the door only closed softly.

Ardanthis looked at the dishevelled Nord and slowly stripped his armour off until he was only left in his sweat stained shirt and linen pants. He took Argis' large, calloused hand in his own and with a wordless tug he urged the Nord to his feet. "Let's clean up," he said softly and led his still-nervous husband to the washbasin in their room.

It was clear from the way the Nord smelled that he hadn't changed his shirt in the four days that Ard had been gone, and so the elf gently helped him pull it off. The Altmer treated his husband like he would someone who was too weak to help themselves – he gently washed Argis.

Argis seemed to be slowly waking up and his movements became less sluggish. He seemed to be somewhat ashamed of his filthy appearance and he quickly took the cloth from Ardanthis. His scrubbing became more vigorous as he removed four days' worth of grime and misery from himself.

Content that Argis' seemed to be regaining vitality, Ardanthis began to clean himself of the dirt and sweat from the road.

They stood before each other, damp and almost naked, but there was none of the fire that Ardanthis had let himself hope for over his journey back home.

The elf could feel himself radiating uncertainty as he kept a thousand unasked questions behind his teeth. He knew Argis sensed the hesitation too, and they both seemed to be awkwardly moving around each other.

Argis wouldn't make eye contact with his husband and the Nord's mechanical motions made him appear to be bracing for an assault.

"Love," he began hesitantly, "I wanted to say that-"

Ardanthis quickly cut in and said, "Not today, Argis." He blew out a quivering sigh before he added, "We'll figure something out tomorrow, but I can't – I just can't handle it today."

The elf quickly walked over to a bookshelf and grabbed one of the tomes at random off of it, but Argis could tell that the elf wasn't really reading the book for he never turned a page.

With a gaze filled with shame and regret, Argis turned back towards the fire and stared into its dancing depths as he tried to think of a way to undo the damage he had wrought.

Hours slipped by as the two men sat in stillness. The only sound was the clunk of wood as Argis slowly fed the fire to keep it burning. When night truly fell outside, they both retired to their beds, but they never once made contact throughout the night.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The dawn over Windhelm was clear and bright as the skies had exhausted themselves the day before. Thick drifts of soft, powdery snow filled the streets and the citizens worked diligently to clear the main paths and roads throughout the narrow streets of their city.

Ardanthis looked out of one of Hjerim's few windows as he admired the way the snow mantled everything in the manor's yard. He stood in a simple cotton shirt and pants as he clutched a tankard of tea that he had made that morning.

The elf had been at the window since before the morning light had spilled over the streets and reflected brightly off of the snow. He was filled a sense of calm and resolution because this morning he had a plan to fix everything.

He smiled out the window as he heard the hesitant, lighter tread that belonged to Calder. The red haired Nord saw the elf standing by the window and said, "Good morning, my thane."

Ardanthis didn't turn around as he smoothed the smile from his features and said, "Good morning, Calder. You may begin removing the snow from our walkways."

Calder nodded quietly and threw on a cloak before he grabbed a shovel and marched out of the house. Ardanthis sipped his tea as he watched his housecarl work. He could have melted the snow quickly with a few streams of fire, but he was feeling petty and enjoyed seeing the other man heave piles of snow around.

The ancient floors of Hjerim creaked softly as Argis hesitantly stepped down the stairs. Though Ardanthis wasn't actively looking at him, he heard the pause in the Nord's tread as Argis spotted the Altmer by the window.

Without hesitation, Ardanthis turned around and beamed at his husband. "Come on down, Argis. I'm simply starving and I've been hoping you would make your vegetable stew," said the elf cheerfully.

The Nord was stunned by this strange transformation that had overcome his husband. They had just passed the night before wrapped in despondent silence but now the High Elf acted as though nothing had happened.

Snapping out of his confusion, Argis murmured, "Of course, love. I'll get on it right away." He hurried off to the kitchen with his husband's thanks ringing through the air.

He swiftly prepared the hearty breakfast that his husband had asked for but never stopped wondering what had caused the change to sweep over his husband so quickly. Apprehension shivered through his mind as he waited for whatever else was going to come.

The warm, delicious scent of stew filled the air and Argis' stomach rumbled demandingly. It achingly reminded him of all the food he hadn't eaten recently and he sighed impatiently as the stew slowly simmered. It would be the first thing he had eaten in days and his body was angrily demanding sustenance. He quickly added a hunk of beef to a pan and hurriedly placed it over the fire. Come what may, he wasn't going to face the day on an empty stomach.

He carefully ladled three bowls out and brought them to the table as he heard the front door open. Calder's voice was low and submissive as he spoke to the elf, and Argis couldn't make out the other man's words.

With a heavy sense of trepidation he brought the stew out. The mundane, trivial act of setting the table felt strangely tense as Argis's calloused hands put out utensils. Ardanthis continued to stare out of the window, smiling softly to himself while he clutched his empty tankard. His distracted gaze was unsettling, but his raw happiness was seemingly reassuring. Both Nords knew that the Altmer had control of their honour.

"It's ready, love," Argis said softly, still waiting for some break in the tension.

Ardanthis turned away from the window and padded over to the table in his soft cloth boots and sat down at the table. Calder approached with evident nervousness and glanced at Argis before sitting down at the large banquet table that filled the common room.

The clink of cutlery was the only sound in the room as the two Nords looked at each other subtly, but neither had any clue to offer the other.

Ardanthis finished his bowl with a satisfied smile and looked at his two companions. "As I'm sure you both realize that things can never be the same as they once were." Both Nords winced and looked down. The High Elf's voice took on a steadily colder edge as he continued, "So I'm not going to pretend that things are going to be the same. I'm not going to bother with the game where we all try to act like what happened didn't happen."

Calder opened his mouth to speak but the elf's hand shot up as he said, "Here's what's going to happen." His gaze snapped to Argis and the ice in his voice softened as he smiled. "Argis and I are leaving Hjerim and Windhelm in general."

"What!?" exclaimed Argis as he looked wide-eyed at the elf, "But the Imperials want us here."

Ardanthis shook his head dismissively and soothingly murmured, "There're enough Imperial soldiers here to maintain the peace. They don't need us anymore."

"Have you asked the Legate or General-" began the blonde Nord before Ardanthis shook his head once more.

"Their opinions are irrelevant to my plans," interrupted the elf with finality.

Argis gave an exasperated sigh and asked, "But what will be done with the house? You can't sell it without losing your title."

"That's where _he_ comes in," said Ardanthis with a very reptilian smile towards Calder. The red haired Nord stared silently at the elf, who continued, "You have steadily become a larger and larger problem for me. As much as I would like to throw you out of this house and beat you within an inch of your life for what you've done, I don't want to deal with the shame and politics that come with that. So I have an alternative plan."

He leaned back in his chair and said, "Argis and I are going to leave and say we wish to see more of Skyrim, and we are going to leave you, Calder, here."

In one swift motion the elf leaned forward in his seat and glowered at Calder. He spat with biting cold, "But you are going to be on a very short leash. I will keep very close tabs on the state of Hjerim, and if I find you bringing any sort of disgrace to either myself or this household I will return here myself and slit your throat." Calder stared in mute hatred but managed a stiff nod in reply.

Argis looked between the man he loved and the man he once loved and bowed his head. "Where are we going? Back to Markarth?" he asked in a choked voice.

"No, Argis. I'm tired of stone, snow, and cold. I miss growing things and running water. I want to go to Falkreath and be near the lake," answered Ardanthis with a trace of excitement in his voice.

The Nord seemed resigned to the move and he asked, "Where will we live?"

"Falkreath has large tracts of land that the Jarl would be willing to sell, I'm sure. We will find a way to make it happen," answered the elf cheerfully. He hesitated for a moment before adding, "We're leaving today."

Stunned silence greeted that declaration.

Argis' face a mask of incredulity but he simply nodded. Ardanthis smile and handed a rolled scroll to Calder and said, "These are all of the things you will have to ensure you take care of." The elf's eyes were bright as he turned to his husband and said, "Come, Argis, let's pack. We don't have much here so it shouldn't take long."

The blonde Nord cast one last guilty look at Calder before following the Altmer up the stairs. Left alone with the dirty plates around him, Calder took that moment to bury his face in his hands as he knew with a final certainty that his love would leave him for the last time before the day was up.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

AN: I hope you all continue to read and enjoy this story despite the large gaps in between updates. Again, I am sorry.


	20. Chapter 20

AN: Once more, sorry for the late update. I think this fic has a few chapters left in it before I retire it, but don't worry. I already have plans for another Skyrim fanfiction that's set in the same universe as this one. This chapter will contain graphic parts later down.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Ardanthis seemed to be filled with an unusual energy as he swept through the room he shared with Argis. He realized now that he had never really planned to stay in Hjerim for too long. Without surprise he looked at the sparsely decorated room around him and sighed in annoyance. He had put so much gold into this house without truly thinking out if he wanted to make it a home.

He glanced at Argis, who seemed to be much less energetic as he picked through his belonging. The High Elf shook his head softly. When he had bought the property things had been much less complicated than they were now, and the short time he had been absent had seen them get even worse.

This was the easiest way out for all of them. Calder could keep his position of honour and Argis and Ardanthis could keep their happiness in somewhere far off where they wouldn't live with temptation and haunted memories.

Nearly everything that the house had come with would be left behind but a few things could be taken with them. Ardanthis scooped up several of the soul gems that had been left behind as gifts from the jarl and slipped them into his pack before he strapped on his armour.

Without fanfare Argis slipped into his heavy steel armour too as he sadly looked over their shared bedroom. Ardanthis quickly wrote down that he was leaving the city on a piece of paper as he left for the door. "Hurry, Argis," he urged softly from the doorway.

He felt a twinge of pity as the Nord quickly strapped the last of his armour on and snatched up his pack. Ardanthis knew he was being slightly unfair to the Nord as he hurried him away from another home and away from another man he had feelings for, but the elf wanted the break to be as quick and smooth as possible. There was no sense dragging out the altercation.

They both hurried down the stairs, but Ard could sense he moved with more energy and excitement. Argis steadfastly refused to look at Calder as he hurried out the door despite the other Nord's best efforts to catch his gaze. He next looked to Ardanthis and his gaze grew noticeably bitter. "Don't forget our deal, _Housecarl_," coldly ordered the elf as he hurried out into the streets. He emphasized the word to remind Calder of his position.

Argis followed his thane as the two rushed to the palace where Ard handed off the note to a guard and instructed the man to pass it along to the jarl when he could.

Their quick steps took them out of the city's gates and they mingled with the flow of bodies that streamed in and out of the ancient city. Without hesitation they rushed down the bridge that led to the stables, which sat on the other side.

The smell of horses filled the air as the two approached the bustling stables where numerous wagons mingled together as they patiently waited for someone to call upon them. Several merchants moved through the cart drivers and hired those they selected to carry their wares to another city.

A weathered looking woman sat before a team of two well-kept horses and immediately attracted Ardanthis' attention. Her easy confidence was conveyed by her relaxed posture and her wagon looked well cared for. Her horses calmly snorted as they shook themselves.

"Can you take us to Falkreath?" asked the High Elf as he approached her cart.

She regarded him for a moment before she nodded and said in a rough voice, "If you've got the coin I can, but I'm warning you we'll have to make a stop in Whiterun. If you're worried about time, my horses will get you there faster than any of the other teams even with the stopover."

Ard's face screwed up into a look of dismay as he heard about Whiterun, but he quickly nodded. Few of the cart drivers would be willing to carry passengers so far from their home city.

"Is the stop in Whiterun truly necessary?" he asked in an almost pleading voice.

A grave nod from the woman confirmed that it was, "There're several letters I need to deliver to the city. Someone else already paid me to do it."

Argis looked with puzzlement at his husband and recalled the strange aversion the elf had for Whiterun. He chuckled slightly at the dragonborn's evident discomfort and teasingly asked, "What do you have against that city? Are you a wanted criminal?"

With a quick shake of his head Ard answered, "It was the first hold I ever visited after arriving in Skyrim. The city is just somewhere I do not wish to revisit for my own reasons."

Argis accepted the cryptic answer with a shrug as he climbed into the wagon and placed his pack next to him. He looked back at Windhelm, where he knew Calder waited, one last wistful time before he stiffened his resolve. He failed his husband and it wouldn't happen again.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The massive citadel that sat within the heart of Whiterun loomed high in the distance as the two men looked up at it. Despite the terrible weather that had struck them, the horses and the driver continued onward towards the city. Fat, heavy flakes of wet snow fell out of the sky in a surprising flurry that had soaked all three of the travellers. Argis looked with worry at his husband, who shivered sharply in the cold that had long ago soaked through his cloak.

"Praise the divines, we're almost there," murmured the elf through chattering teeth as he glanced up at the ancient structure. He quickly looked back down to keep the wet snow from falling directly on his face.

Argis, his head uncovered and unbothered by the snow, brushed the cold flakes off his husband and winced pitiably at the elf's condition. At last, they pulled up before the stables of the great city and the two passengers stiffly got out of the carriage. Argis nodded to the woman as the snow worsened and he called out, "We will meet you back here tomorrow!" When the woman gave him a nod and hurried her team towards the stable Argis helped his husband towards the city.

He nearly snarled as he entered the unfamiliar city. The guards huddled in the lee of the walls and didn't bother to approach the newcomers. "There's an inn this way," called Ardanthis as he hurried off up the slippery stairs towards the inn. He nearly slipped but Argis caught his elbow.

The common room's warm hearth was a relief to both of the travellers. Ard left his hood up and quietly stood in the shadows of the doorway as he quietly murmured, "Rent us a room, Argis." The blonde Nord's suspicion's over his husband's silence grew but he complied. He knew that he would eventually find out what bothered his husband so much about the city and was willing to wait.

He approached the barkeep and quickly rented a single room for the two of them as he beckoned his husband over. Right as Ardanthis stepped forward the door was forcefully opened and it knocked the Altmer off balance for a moment.

Argis watched a dark haired Nord enter the room and immediately begin to apologize in a deep voice. The man suddenly choked off his words and a surprised look came over his features. His surprise quickly melted into a warm smile as he swept Ardanthis into a bear hug. "Ard!" he called out. The general noise of the room swallowed his exclamation but Argis barely managed to make it out from where he was standing. With concern he headed for the other Nord and, though his husband was more than capable of taking care of himself, Argis wasn't going to wanted to know what was going on.

"It's good to see you again, Farkas. You can let me go now, though," said Ardanthis with a grin.

"Let me buy you a mead and you can tell me where you've been all this time," cried the bulky Nord as he clapped Ard on the back. He grinned and continued, "I thought you said you were going west to make your fortune, did you find anything worthwhile there?"

Argis' brows contracted sharply as he saw the other Nord not only continue to hold his husband but his hands quickly migrated lower down the elf's back. Finally close enough to be heard without having to shout over the noise of the busy tavern, Argis tersely said, "He found wealth and a husband in Markarth." He crossed his thick arms over his chest and looked sternly at Farkas with annoyance in his gaze.

"A husband?" asked Farkas as he quickly released the elf with confusion on his features.

"Yeah, me," answered Argis, his features tightening into their coldest glare which accentuated the scars and tattooing that marked his face.

Ardanthis patted the big Nord's arm and said, "Easy, love. He didn't know."

"Who is he?" asked Argis without taking his glare off the other Nord.

"Do you really want to do this now?" he asked with an annoyed sigh. When the other Nord refused to reply he sighed gustily and said, "He's someone I met before you. Don't take it personally, Argis. I hadn't gone beyond this hold when Farkas and I... encountered one another."

The blonde Nord eyed the other man up and down as he tried to get a feel for him. The other man was armoured like Argis and he looked as muscular as the housecarl, but his icy blue eyes, dark hair, and unmarred countenance separated him from the other Nord.

"Farkas," the elf quickly said, "It's been good seeing you but I'm soaking and exhausted and I'd like to go to my room."

"Oh. Of course," said the man, much more subdued now as his gaze flicked between the two men before him. "Maybe we could catch up some time," he said softly. He quickly added, "Just to talk though!" as he glanced at Argis' tight features.

"Maybe soon, Farkas," answered the elf with a smile before he turned to his husband and said, "Argis, why don't you take us to our room?"

With a final glare at the other man, Argis turned away and headed for their small room.

When the door clicked shut behind him he looked at Ardanthis and made sure his voice was calm before he asked, "Who was that?"

"That was Farkas. He's one of the leaders of the Companions here in Whiterun. We knew one another for a short while after I got to town, but nothing much came of it as his duties and my desire to move on pulls us apart," explained the elf as he stripped his armour off and draped his cloak over a chair before the fire.

"You 'knew one another'?" asked Argis with relief and a hint of a smile playing in his voice.

Ardanthis smiled at his husband, "He wasn't bad, but nowhere near as good as you, Argis."

They both began to strip down and Ard stood naked in front of the fire and let the warmth play over his golden skin. Argis quietly padded up behind his husband and wrapped his arms around the lithe elf. "Love," he began hesitantly, "I'm sorry for what-"

In one swift motion Ard gently turned the Nord's head and kissed him deeply. "It's alright," he murmured as he broke the kiss, "We all make mistakes, but I won't let one mistake come between us."

Argis tightened his grip for a moment before turning away. He playfully asked, "So how did you and that Farkas guy meet?"

Ardanthis grimaced at the question and said, "When I first arrived in Whiterun I was little more than a wiry adventurer with a bit of magic and sharp dagger I had dug up from some abandoned shack. I... tried to join the Companions." Argis' loud guffaw cut off the elf's story and he looked at the light, elegant elf as he tried to imagine the thane in amongst the burly warriors of the Companions.

Ard's pursed lips quickly silenced the Nord's amusement. "Farkas was the one who tested me," he continued as Argis looked attentively at him, "I lost – horribly – and I was laughed out of the Companions' hall. Farkas pitied me enough that he tried to teach me a few more of his combat tricks, but they never really took hold. We ended up as lovers for a short while before I left the city to go to Markarth." He waved his hand dismissively as he murmured, "We were never in love, though. After the Hold learned I was the Dragonborn his affection quickly faded and he became distant."

Argis shrugged his large shoulders and said, "I'm sure you could make it into the Companions now. You're much better with your blades than many other warriors."

Surprise showed on Ard's face for a moment as he said incredulously, "Really?" he laughed at himself suddenly and said, "It doesn't matter anymore, though. I only wanted to join them for a place to sleep and whatever simple missions they offered for coin."

"Come," urged Ardanthis as he walked towards the bed, "We'll leave this hold tomorrow as we head for Falkreath." The bed he lay down on would be generous for one, but it was a tight fit for two.

Pressed close against one another with the low fire burning in the hearth, Argis quietly asked, "What kind of house did you imagine us living in when we get to Falkreath?"

"I'm not sure," answered Ard honestly with a shrug as he looked up at the ceiling that held a small, unlit chandelier. He smiled softly before adding, "Maybe something more cozy. Hjerim was huge, old, and creaky. Maybe a small cottage just for us."

"Just for us, love?" asked Argis and a trace of disappointment coloured his voice.

Ard turned and looked sharply as his husband, "Did... did you want something more? Did you want children?"

The bluntly asked question put Argis back on his mental heels as he truly thought about it for a time. "I'm not sure," he finally answered honestly, "I always imagined more, but I don't know if we'll be able to raise them in this world – the dragons are still flying the skies, though they haven't attacked anyone in some time."

Ard reached out and grasped Argis' hand and whispered, "If you want, our house will be bigger than Hjerim and big enough to hold a family if you truly want."

They talked softly of warm fires, freshly hunted venison, and efforts to keep the region clear of bandits and other monsters. They dreamed aloud while awake until sleep claimed them and they dreamed in silence.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Waking up well before the dawn, both Argis and Ard hastily prepared themselves to return to the wagon driver. The few sundries they had removed from their packs the night before were now repacked as they left for the main room of the inn.

There was no hesitation in their step as they left the inn without another word. Both men had agreed that they would be fine with their trail rations and didn't want to wait another moment.

The streets of Whiterun were quiet so early in the morning and any sound that was being made was quickly muted by the thickly falling snow that still filled the air. Ard looked to Argis and wordlessly conveyed his dismay at the weather with a roll of his eyes before he hurried out towards the stables.

His annoyance at the weather quickly turned into annoyance at the wagon driver when he saw no one ready and waiting to carry them off to Falkreath. "She might just be late," suggested Argis as he sensed his husband's not-so-subtle mood, "Let's look for her in the stables."

Ard's annoyance only deepened as he saw both of the wagon's horses resting quietly in their stalls. He paced quickly down the row of stables until he found a clean stall that held the wagon driver, asleep on a pile of hay. "What are you still doing here asleep?" angrily demanded Ard as he glowered down at the woman who was startled awake by his words.

"Have you seen the weather outside? Snowberry will slip and snap a leg for sure in that weather, my lord!" snapped the woman in response. She glared tersely at the pair, rose to her feet, and said, "I'm not risking my horses in this weather. You can find a different driver who's willing to gamble their livelihoods on taking you to Falkreath or you can wait for the storm to blow over."

Without anything to retort, Ard left the woman without another word as he stormed back out into the thickly falling snow.

Argis gently grabbed his husband's arm and pulled him into the lee of the building. "What's the matter love? Why are you angry over a few days' delay? You know she's right," he murmured as they watched a cloaked figure struggle through the falling snow.

"I hate this city," murmured Ardanthis in a tight voice. He hesitated before continuing, "It's the one place where I can't escape being the Dragonborn." The confusion written on Argis' face forced Ard to continue his explanation. "This was where I killed my first dragon," he said bluntly and the news put Argis back on his mental heels.

"Stop looking at me like that!" snarled the elf with sudden vehemence as he met Argis' shocked gaze. "Stop looking at me like I've done something strange and incredible," he said in a much softer voice, "It's why I hate being here. Everyone looks at me with such... awe. I'm not a person to them anymore."

"Love, dragons were thought to be mythical creatures until they began burning down buildings. You have to understand that for us Nords, we've seen our legends come to life and be killed again all at once," murmured the blonde Nord soothingly as he tried to keep the amazement out of his voice. While he knew that Ard had slain dragons, it still seemed surreal to him that he had been sleeping with a man who had killed a dragon. He chuckled slightly as his mind returned to the conversation, "I would be more worried if my people showed you no reverence after killing a supposedly extinct beast."

"I didn't want this, though. I wasn't even the only one to kill the damned thing. Most of the guard turned out to help. I never intended to be the one who is supposed to save Skyrim, especially not after meeting you, Argis. I just want to be with you and find a quiet place in – or out – of this damn country to settle in."

"Love," Argis hesitantly began, "You owe no one anything, but have you thought that maybe Skyrim needs you? Maybe the Gods gave you this gift so you could save more people. You may not have 'chosen' to be this, but it might be what you are."

Ard sighed heavily and stared silently out at the falling snow as he let Argis' words wash over him. "I need time to think about it, Argis. I still want to head to Falkreath and settle there if only for a little while," he said firmly. "We might as well return to the inn and book another night there," he said glumly with a soft sigh, "The storm will have hopefully passed by then."

They returned to the inn and Ard did his best to remain inconspicuous as he stood in the shadows away from the other travellers who were eating.

Argis quickly rebooked their room and they both returned to their shared room. Ard stared into the fire for a moment before Argis quietly said, "I've never seen the Gildergreen or ever been to this Hold."

"You can go see anything you want in this Hold. I don't want to go out there yet," answered the elf without looking at his husband.

The big Nord sighed to himself. He looked at the clearly agitated Altmer and said, "Love, you can't hide in here for forever. By the Divines, you've left this Hold a scrawny wizard with a dagger and returned stronger than before. Let the people have a hero for once. Let them look at you with admiration because you're their symbol of hope." He snorted, "If nothing else show them that you don't disdain their ways. Challenge a few of the Companions to blade fights and beat them."

Ard smiled slightly at that last suggestion, "Maybe I'll show Farkas that he isn't the only one who can wield a sword."

The trace of vigor that entered the elf's voice as he decided to visit the Companion's meadhall relieved Argis, who had been worried about the Altmer's despondency.

The thickly falling snow made the path up to Jorrvaskr treacherous but the two braved the slippery steps of the tiered city regardless. Ard led his husband down the side streets of the city until they reached the large tree, the Gildergreen which hung in full bloom above him. Despite the falling snowflakes the tree seemed untouched by the weather and its rosy pink petals gleamed with life regardless of the weather.

Ard smiled up at it and said, "When I first arrived the tree appeared to be dying, but I heard someone went on a pilgrimage to the Eldergleam Sanctuary and returned with a means to heal it."

"It's beautiful," murmured Argis as he looked up at it with wonder. Even being in the tree's presence seemed to take some of the cold wind's bite from the air. It seemed exude a sense of spring despite the weather.

The cold also kept many of Whiterun's citizens inside and Ardanthis seemed to enjoy the emptiness of the streets. "Come on," he urged as he walked away from the tree and towards Jorrvaskr.

Ard approached the ancient structure with an air of defiance hanging about him. His husband quietly noted the firm set of his jaw and the way the elf's shoulders straightened as they reached the main doors to the meadhall.

The elf blew out a quick sigh before he pushed the doors open and entered. There were only a few Companions in Jorrvaskr and they looked up as the cold gust of wind swept through the room. Quickly entering, Argis shut the doors behind him as one of the Companions, surprisingly enough a dark elf, called out, "This isn't an inn, you know."

"Hush," immediately said a Nord woman with a savage tattoo that sprawled across her features, "They may wish to join our ranks."

"The big one might pass," said the Dunmer as he looked over Argis, "but I don't the other scrawny elf has it- wait a moment, don't we know you? You tried a long time ago to join us, Dragonborn. It didn't end so well for you as far as I recall. Maybe you should stick to your tomes and spells."

"I've become much better with my blades since you last saw me," retorted Ardanthis. He smirked provocatively and said, "I bet I could take you in fair combat." Argis could sense the deliberate switch in tone and the carefully used inflections of disdain.

Anger immediately coloured the Dark Elf's features but we quickly corralled his emotions. The Dunmer returned the smile with a cold twitch of his lips. "I accept your challenge, Altmer," he said.

Ard's gaze roamed the room and he finally noticed Farkas sitting in the back with a look of surprise clearly on his features. The Altmer turned away from him without another glance as he headed for the sparring grounds behind Jorrvaskr. Athis sprang up from his chair and hurried after his challenger, clearly eager for the fight.

The snow continued to fall outside as Ard emerged into the cold air. A quick glance at Athis showed that the Dunmer was wearing little more than a harness in the biting cold. He didn't seem to mind though, and he walked over to a nearby rack and picked up a finely balanced wooden blade. He gave it a few test swings before nodding with satisfaction and handing it over to Ardanthis.

The Altmer graciously accepted that sword and the one that followed. While he tested their feel for himself he didn't look for treachery from one of the Companions.

"Ready?" asked the Dark elf as he fell into a combat position. He received a nod for an answer.

The first attacks were simple tests. Easily parried swings and jabs went each way as Ard felt out the swordmaster's style. Athis was, at the same time, feeling out this stranger who challenged him.

Ard launched the first real attack with a high swipe and low jab from his offhand blade. Athis turned deftly and avoided the jab while parrying the swing.

His retaliation was swift and a blinding series of slashes put Ard back on his heels and moving defensively. Leaping backwards and swinging one of his swords in a wide arc, the High Elf broke the pressure on him.

Immediately reversing his momentum he rushed forward and swung his blades in a scissoring motion and made the other elf step back to avoid being struck.

Argis watched from the sidelines while the battle's momentum played out and swung in both directions. Athis truly was a master with his single weapon, but he was clearly less familiar with fighting someone wielding two weapons. His skill with a single blade was matched by his unfamiliarity of the Altmer's style and put the two on more equal footing.

The challenge was witnessed only by Argis and a few other warriors. He glanced at the people around him and saw that they weren't the usual raucous, jeering crowd that most of these fights saw. They were quiet and seemed to be trying to learn from or critique both fighters' movements. Their stoicism seemed so strange to the Nord, who was watching the two elves fighting with his heart in his throat. He knew how much winning meant for his husband and he ached to see the Dark Elf fall.

Nods of approval were directed to both fighters as the battle continued in a whirl of blades that broke apart only to give the two combatants a chance to assess each other and look for openings.

Argis remained impassive as he watched his husband thrust and stab at the Dunmer. Despite the falling snow and biting wind both elves were sweating from their furious exertion. Glancing to his right he saw Farkas also watching closely. Though the other man tried to appear like he wasn't watching with baited breath, the tension in his posture left no doubt in Argis' mind that there was an outcome Farkas was hoping for.

His breath caught in his throat as Athis' blade slipped past Ard's defences and jabbed towards the Altmer's chest. Jerking to the side, Ard brought the pommel of his practice sword down on his opponent's wrist and Athis hissed as he dropped his sword. The High Elf completed his attack and jabbed his free sword towards Athis' stomach. The Dark Elf grunted as the blunted tip impacted him right where his harness stopped.

Ard's grin was huge and unmistakeable as he looked at the warrior he had bested. His triumph held no malice or disdain in it, just a simple joy at having overcome something that had stopped him before.

Athis caught his breath and gasped as he alternatively clutched at his gut and his wrist. "I can heal-" offered the High Elf, but a sharp shake of Athis' head was all the answer he needed. He levelled a murderous glower at the High elf, but the other members of Jorrvaskr were already moving forward to congratulate Ard on his victory. There was no shame in losing to a more skilled opponent and both combatants had fought well. Both Athis and Ardanthis had their combat complimented and critiqued by those who had watched the fight.

Smiling, Argis watched as his husband was officially offered a place in the Companions. The Nord watched Ardanthis accept the position and grin widely, but he also knew that Ard would never attempt to rise up their ranks. Winning the position meant more to him than the position itself.

Breaking away from the other Companions with words of warmth and gratitude, Ard returned to his husband with a large smile on his features. "Let's go back to the inn, Argis," he murmured as the Companions filed back inside, a still-bitter Athis in tow.

The return to the inn was quick as the falling snow began to lighten slightly. The dark grey clouds hanging overhead lightened subtly and Ard looked towards the sky with hope. "We should be able to travel again tomorrow, but we'll have to spend one more night in this Hold," he said with excitement.

Argis grinned and murmured, "It'll be the last time for a while before we have a real bed." Though he confidently looked at Ard with a grin, he was inwardly terrified. The implied erotic suggestion might be too soon after his unfaithful moment with Calder.

Ard hesitated for a moment and his face showed hesitation. Argis' stomach dropped in that heartbeat but the elf's face quickly cleared. "We should get a lot of sleep tonight, but we need something else to do to pass the rest of the day," said the elf with a sudden matching smile.

Both men rushed towards the inn with renewed energy and slipped through the quiet main room to their rented room. The click of the door closing launched a frenzy of motion.

With quick, practiced motions Argis was already removing his armour and he quickly threw it on the floor. The room wasn't cold thanks to the heat that slipped in from the main room's fire, but it was cooler than normal. Argis quickly removed his leather breeches while he watched the Altmer watching him.

Ard was stripping his own clothes quickly, but the blond Nord knew that the elf's attention was split between undressing himself and staring at Argis.

With a smile, Argis pulled his loincloth away and stood naked before his husband. Though he was unbothered by the cold air, he knew his elven husband lacked the innate resistance to cold that Nords possessed.

Gently massaging his own cock, he said, "I'll light a fire, love."

He stepped towards the small fireplace, still massaging himself, and bent over as he moved wood from the small pile in the room into the fireplace. He knew that his ass was in perfect view and grinned to himself as he heard Ard snarl with frustration as he tried to get his belt off.

Squatting down, Argis let his large, semi-erect cock hang down as he began to light the fire. He gave small grunts of pleasure as he occasionally pleasured himself while he worked on the fire. Using the flint and tinder nearby, he quickly had a strong blaze burning in the hearth.

He rose and turned around, fully erect, and saw the elf in a similar state of excitement.

His breath hitched in his throat as the elf approached him and embraced him. There was a moment when they stared into each other's eyes before their lips connected in a passionate kiss and their hands roamed over each other's bodies with abandon.

Relief and lust rushed through Argis' mind and competed for dominance in his mind as he gently stroked Ard's sides with his calloused hands. His constant nagging fear over losing his husband due to his own stupidity vanished as the two men fell onto the bed, the slighter elf on top of his husband.

Argis groaned into Ard's mouth as their cocks rubbed against one another. Gently, Ard took both of their dicks into his hand and gently began to pump them both. Another delighted groan came from the Nord, who bucked slightly.

Kissing his way down Argis' chest, Ard ran his tongue up and down the Nord's shaft with energy before he began to suck Argis' member.

Lost in a haze of pleasure, the Nord sighed with joy as his husband began to massage his balls. The elf's face was red as he deepthroated the large cock, his lips going all the way down to Argis' hilt.

Eventually the Nord could feel that tensing in his gut that told him he was going to cum soon, and he tried to grunt out a warning to the elf who continued to skillfully work him. Ignoring his warnings, the elf to bob up and down on the Nord's stiffening cock. He was thrusting into the elf's mouth now and with a loud groan he exploded deep in Ard's throat. Argis continued to thrust as he released the last sticky gouts into his lover who sucked him clean before easing back.

Ard wiped his mouth before asking, "Ready?" He held up a small bottle of oil to help indicate what he meant. Argis nodded, still riding his own high. He lifted his hips at the elf's gently urging and felt the warm, wet fingers pushing into him with enough haste to convey the elf's need.

The fingers plunged in and out rapidly as Ard positioned himself, his greased cock resting against the Nord's entrance. "Go," rasped Argis, his own need making his voice thick. Ard kissed him deeply and the blonde could just taste his own cum in the elf's mouth.

Ard pushed in quickly and both men gasped and groaned. Argis eased back, his powerful chest heaving as waves of raw pleasure washed over him with each thrust. In this moment it was like nothing had happened between them, like no conflict had ever marred their marriage.

"Harder!" the Nord gasped out and adjusted himself slightly to make each thrust count.

The elf obliged and slammed home with each stroke. Argis moaned as the lithe elf pressed himself into the Nord as deep as he could. Both of them knew how much this moment meant. They could both sense how much their marriage needed this intimacy and normalcy, and it helped break the walls that had come up between them.

Argis gave himself over to the moment and revelled in both the sex and the knowledge that everything was going to be alright between the two of them. When Ard finally climaxed and spurted his seed deep within the Nord he quickly pulled out before collapsing next to Argis.

Both mean were sweaty, exhausted, and relieved at the end. No words were needed to convey it to the other as they both felt the same joy and relief.


	21. Chapter 21

AN: I have decided my next story will feature a Khajiit (I almost misspelled that as "Khajeet" so you can all be _very_ confident in my upcoming story ;)) thief-oriented character who will be much more amoral than Ard or Argis. I hope you decide to read that story too! This chapter will contain graphic bits.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Sunlight shone on freshly fallen snow in an almost blinding display of Skyrim's natural brilliance. The Dragonborn and his husband walked out of the inn and into that brilliance as the dawn's light played on the soft, fluffy snow.

They left Whiterun and the excited whispers of guards who recognized Ard behind them as they headed out into the bright morning.

Their wagon driver was already waiting for them and she looked at her two passengers with a warm smile. "Now _this_ is a fine morning for travelling!" she crowed cheerfully as the two men hopped in the back of the wagon. She snapped her reigns and the horses hurried forward, their large hooves easily punching through the snow as they plodded forward.

A cool breeze blew through Ard's hair but it lacked the knife-like quality of the wind from two days ago. It smelled clean and reminded the elf of the numerous rivers that rushed around the city of Whiterun and fed the farmlands that surrounded it.

The wagon quickly rolled south and the land slowly became damper and the trees taller. They loomed high overhead and seemed to hold in the gentle mist that drifted between their boles. Gradually they left behind Whiterun and entered into Falkreath's distinctly more damp climate. Within the embrace of Falkreath's ancient forests the air seemed warmer and more serene with the soft scent of verdant growth drifting through the air.

While Falkreath was one of the smaller holds and lacked the manmade grandeur of the stone structures of the other cities, it was cloaked in its own subtle grace and more than made up for its lack of massive stone castles.

Argis looked over at his husband and saw the elf's face lit by a soft look of joy and wonder as he looked at all the greenery around him. Truthfully, it had been a long time since Argis had been so enclosed by trees. He was used to the brilliant sunlight and hard winds of the northern cities, and the green nature of the land around him seemed slightly strange and foreign to him.

"It feels likes so long since I've been able to be in a forest without being afraid," murmured the elf as the cool, moist wind gently brushed them.

Argis could only nod, feeling slightly out of place here. The wagon quickly rolled to a stop just outside of the central city that housed the Jarl of the hold. The town proper was made mostly of wood harvested from the forests around them and Argis felt like there was almost a dank atmosphere surrounding the town, as if it were cowering beneath the weight of the trees' shadows.

They got off of the wagon and Ard paid the driver before quickly heading directly for the Jarl's longhouse. He quietly and respectfully entered with Argis in tow and approached the dark haired man slouched on the throne. Argis mentally raised an eyebrow at his husband's relentless pursuit of a new home.

Argis felt a wave of disgust rock him as the otherwise handsome man languidly dropped some grapes into his mouth without moving to show his guests any sort of respect. He watched them approach with boredom and a trace of disdain.

"Greetings, honoured Jarl," Ardanthis said with a deep bow.

"What do you want?" lazily drawled the Jarl which made a flare of anger pop up in Argis' breast.

Ard managed to keep his expression perfectly neutral as he said, "I would like to discuss purchasing a small piece of land."

"Oh. That?" asked the Jarl but before the High Elf could say anything else the Nord on the throne bellowed, "Nenya! You are summoned."

A female Altmer glided down the stairs from one of the upper chambers with the grace of long practice and a not a trace of annoyance on her features. "Yes, my lord?" she asked calmly.

"These men wish to buy some property. Tell them what we have available and negotiate with them," he ordered before turning his attention back to the bowl of grapes and the goblet of wine that sat next to him.

"Please, come with me, sirs," the plainly dressed Altmer said with a small sigh that Argis could immediately tell was not directed at them.

She led them up the stairs to one of the side rooms and sat down behind a large table. "Please, be seated," she said as she gestured to the two chairs across from her.

Ardanthis took his seek and intently looked at the other Altmer across from him and Argis followed a moment later. "Now then," she said as she rifled through some papers, "what kind of property were you gentlemen looking for? Large? Small? Within the city walls or outside?"

After a momentary glance at Argis, Ard immediately answered, "A large property somewhere close to town. We can handle ourselves quite well, so it doesn't have to be within the safety of the walls."

Nenya nodded and began sorting the papers she was holding. Very quickly, a crease formed between her brows and she peered closely at the sole paper she had left. "There is only one property currently available that matches your specifications," she said as she scanned the paper she was holding. "It should be sufficient, though. It's outside the walls near the lake with a lovely view of the water. Currently, the property is undeveloped but it _is_ cleared and ready for immediate construction."

"Can we see the location before purchasing it?" asked Argis cautiously.

Nenya blinked at him for a moment before answering, "Of course. We will leave shortly with an escort. Please, follow me."

She led them back down the stairs and tapped two of the guards on their shoulders and gestured for them to follow her. With quick strides she left the Jarl's hall behind and hurried out into the town.

Argis was relieved to see the land became less misty and boggy the farther from the town they moved and the trees became less cloying. Bright lances of sunlight burst through the canopy and dappled the dirt road before him which raised his spirits. Very quickly the small troupe arrived at a large clearing that gleamed brightly amongst the towering trees. The fact that it dropped sharply towards the lake gave the property both a better view and made it easier to defend against anyone approaching from the lake. High, rocky spurs closed off part of the property from the surrounding area, which made Argis nod in approval. It was a sensible location.

"This is the property," stated Nenya needlessly. "As you can see it is large, close to but not within the city's walls, and it is well positioned in relation to the lake," she rhymed off as she studied the paper.

"We need to talk first," Ard said as he led Argis away from the other three of the Jarl's agents.

"I love it," the High Elf immediately exclaimed and Argis could only nod. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine living here for the rest of his life and he smiled. It was far from the hilly fields where he had grown up, far from the stony city that had raised him, and far from the icy north where he had long been fighting beside his husband. He imagined one, no two, little children running around and laughing as they sprinted through the forest or fished in the lake. Each image held him standing next to his husband. This was a patch of dirt now, but it could be a home later.

"Let's buy it, love," he said, "And we'll turn it into a home."

They returned to Nenya, who waited unperturbed by their brief discussion. "How much does this property cost?" asked Ardanthis as he looked around the location of his prospective new home.

"It will be five thousand gold pieces for the property. I can put you in contact with several local labourers who can quickly build you a home to any specification you might have. Their costs are separate from the Jarl's, though, and we will not be responsible for anything they affect or produce," she said with a calmness that spoke to her long experience working out such deals for the Jarl.

With a shrug the Dragonborn murmured, "Fair enough. I accept." He pulled out a promissory note from the Jarl of Windhelm and handed it over to Nenya. "This should cover the full amount," he said softly.

She scrutinized the note closely as she looked for any sign of tampering or forgery and nodded to herself. "If you'll return with me to the Jarl's longhouse I can arrange for the builders to meet with you shortly," Nenya said with her brusque professionalism.

They returned to the longhouse quickly and the two guards were hurried out to collect the lead builder. After leading them to the first room she had spoken to them in, Nenya politely asked them to, "Please wait here. Refreshments will be supplied shortly."

A Nord serving girl brought up a tray of preserved meats, bread, and mead before quickly departing and leaving the two alone in the room.

"I think we should start off with a small cottage," said Argis who was largely ignoring the food, "Nothing too big or too fancy for the beginning and then we can add onto it from there."

Ard looked slightly surprised as he glanced at his husband, "Are you sure you don't want something larger?" He tore hungrily into a loaf of bread.

The big Nord shook his head and said, "I'm still not certain about the children and I don't want to have a big, empty house that all the sound echoes through."

Giving his husband's hand a sympathetic squeeze, Ard nodded sympathetically and was about to say something more when a gruff, burly Nord with a black beard that was running to grey entered.

"Brun," he said simply as he held out his hand. Both Argis and Ard rose and firmly gripped his hand. The Altmer noticed that the shake between the two Nords was much longer and more cordial than Brun's handshake with himself.

"So what can my boys build for you two gentlemen?" he asked with interest.

Argis grinned widely as he said, "A small cottage suitable for two people. It has to be weather proofed."

Brun obviously hesitated before he asked, "Something small and cozy won't have a lot of space. Do you want two bedrooms?"

"One," firmly answered Ard as he looked challengingly at the other Nord who only swallowed thickly and noted it down on the scrap of parchment he held.

"When can you get started and when can you be finished?" asked Argis as he drew the other Nord's attention back to him.

Brun smiled and said, "We can start tomorrow. We will finish in two weeks if the weather stays bright and clear."

A final handshake sealed the contract between Brun and Ard.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The two weeks seemed to pass by with achingly slowness that left both Ardanthis and Argis wishing their small home was finished quickly. Repeated visits to the work site saw diligent workers and rapid progress on the small cottage as the builders cut down the necessary trees and hauled in the necessary ore in as they built the house. The framework quickly went up and the small cottage's skeleton took shape.

They lived out of the town's small inn and quickly became oddities around Falkreath. While not every Nord in Falkreath approved of their marriage, some openly glowered at Ard as he passed by them, they were quickly accepted into the sleepy life of the hold.

To pass the time they frequently sparred with the guards and each other while roaming the forests to better understand the new hold they hoped to call home. Rumors of dragon sightings increased and fearful murmurs passed through the town as the people cautiously watched the sky but nothing disturbed the gentle swish of the trees besides the odd bandit.

At last, three days ahead of schedule, Brun returned to the inn in the evening and cheerfully announced that the cottage was done.

He brought the two men back to their new home and proudly presented it. To Argis, the sunlit clearing seemed perfectly idyllic. Brun cheerfully boasted, "It'll keep out the cold and the bugs and it's built to last – solid as one of the barrows and bound to last as long! We set you up with the basics, but if you need more just look for us in town."

The workers departed quickly and Argis hurried into their new home. It smelled new, with the lingering scent of pine resin and sawdust dancing in the air. The room was small but solidly built and a cheerful fire blazed in the hearth. A simple but large bed, two chests, and a table with two chairs sat in the room and the table was set with simple wooden dishes.

Joy was openly written on both men's faces as they looked around their small but new accommodations. Argis poked through the barrels and bags that sat near the fire and quickly had a stew made with three kinds of fish, and more vegetables than Ard could count, simmering over the fire.

Away from the grandeur and politics of Windhelm, the rustic food seemed so much delicious than anything served in the aging palace. The warm firelight and hearty fare made the pair feel elated and Ard reached across the small table to take Argis' hand as he asked softly, "Should we 'christen' this place tonight?"

Argis quickly warmed to the suggestion and agreed. They hadn't been celibate in the inn but they were always conscious of the thin walls of the poorly made building. They hungered for true privacy.

Sinking down onto the firm mattress, Argis was surprised by the aggressive hunger in his husband's kisses.

"Argis, I want you to do something for me," murmured Ard as he licked at Argis' nipple.

"Anything, love, anything," breathed the big man as he ran his hand down the elf's back.

Ard stopped for a moment and breathed, "I want you inside me." His breath was warm and soft on the Nord's nipple and Argis could only gasp in surprise. All throughout their marriage he had never been invited to do this.

Suppressing a pleased groan, the Nord gasped, "Are you sure about this, love?"

Ard pulled back and nodded, his face a mixture of anticipation and fear. "You seem...overjoyed every time I enter you. I want to feel that too," he explained awkwardly. Unwilling to look the proverbial gift horse in the mouth, Argis simply nodded. Their pants were off a moment later and Ardanthis was on his hands and knees on the bed. His face was set in a strange sort of grim determination that almost made Argis laugh.

With great skill and care, Argis massaged the elf's ass. He made sure to keep his own elation and excitement in check as he prepared the elf's tight entry. His breath shuddered in and out of his body as big Nord eyed the golden skinned elf in anticipation. He had longed for this, waited for this, and hoped for this for a long time. He had been content taking the Dragonborn's cock, but he had wanted to share the joy he felt with his husband.

The noises the elf made were exquisite as the Nord's fingers slipped inside, but Argis managed to restrain his lust. This had to be perfect, he constantly reminded himself. He would give his husband all of the joy he had ever received from their lovemaking. Whatever had prompted this strange change in roles might never come again and Argis needed this to be as beautiful as he could make.

Though his primal side roared at him to slam into the elf over and over, to claim the Altmer, Argis held himself back. This wasn't some other Nord he met in an inn and could savage in a flurry of pleasure.

He exhaled shakily, his body quivering with excitement, as he slowly slid into the golden ass that was presented so perfectly to him.

The Altmer grunted deeply as Argis continued to move in while murmuring gently and encouragingly. It had been so long since the Nord had topped someone that the rush of perfect, tight heat around his rock solid cock was euphoric. He moved slowly, making sure to rein in his desires as he gently began to move in and out in slow, even strokes.

He didn't realize until that moment how much he missed being on top. The thrill of conquest, of aggression, of control rushed through him and sent tingles shooting up and down his spine as his pace became much more energetic.

Ard gasped and moaned, his eyes screwed shut as he felt every one of the solid thrusts that Argis slammed into him. Pain and pleasure mingled behind his eyes and he refused to open them as the sensations washed over him. Without really intending to, he surrendered control to Argis who was muttering encouragements and praise in a never-ending stream to his husband.

Divines, the Nord's large cock _hurt_ but each thrust inward felt good at the same time.

Argis was skilled and strong, and he competently moved Ard into new positions as he began to talk louder. Ard felt like the other man's hands were everywhere on his body and he grunted in time to the hard thrusts. Eventually, the elf was on his back and he looked up through squinted eyes at the elated expression that was written on Argis' face. He quietly wondered if his face looked like that when their roles were reversed.

He felt exhausted as the Nord continued to vigorously slam into him, their sweaty bodies wrapping around each other. Already, the elf had cum twice and his belly was splattered with his own seed but the big man didn't seem to be slowing down. His feral pace only continued onward as the sweat and semen on the elf's body mingled.

Ard's pleasure and pain intensified as Argis became almost frantic with his thrusts and it was moments until the elf felt an explosion of warmth deep within him. He gasped as Argis jammed himself in particularly deep with each of those final thrusts and gave strangled shouts of joy. He thrust, weakly now, twice more before he pulled out and sank down next to the Altmer.

Their tired-but-happy gazes met, and both of them knew that this would not be their last time switching roles.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Ard's pleasant sleep was awakened by a very deep but very faint roar that seemed to echo down from far away.

Alarmed, he jerked awake and his sudden motion pulled Argis into wakefulness too. "What is it?" blearily asked the Nord as he looked at the elf.

"I don't know," honestly answered the Altmer, "But it feels wrong." The worry and fear that laced his voice ensured both men were alert and they hurriedly gathered their armour and arms. That fearsome roar sounded again, this time closer, and they warily waited to see what it signified.

The dawn was just beginning to break over the horizon but neither of them left the cottage. They sat by the windows, fearful and watchful for whatever had made the noise. The loud thump of wings pounding the air sounded over their little cottage and seemed to center over their heads. They fearfully looked out the windows and tried to see its source.

Suddenly, their world was on fire. Both Argis and Ard staggered out of the blazing cottage. Just overhead, a dragon hovered over their burning home and released another gout of fire that reduced the rest of the structure to a bonfire.

"NO!" shouted Ard in horror as he watched his new home being consumed. With a snarl of rage he drew both of his hands together and formed a massive ice shard. Wordlessly, he launched it at the dragon's wing. The shard punched through the membrane and the cold magicka quickly dispersed and froze a large swathe of the dragon's wing.

The scaly beast roared in pained surprise and tried to gain altitude, but the frozen part of its wing shattered under the strain and the beast collapsed to the ground and slammed down into the flaming ruin of the cottage.

Argis already had his shield and sword drawn and he waited for the creature to leave the blinding blaze behind. Though it was largely unharmed by the flames, the dragon roared deafeningly as it charged out of the fire.

It centered on the elf that had wounded it so badly and spat a jet of flames at the Altmer, but the wizard blocked them with a magical shield.

He retaliated with another spear of ice that jabbed into the dragon's chest. The ancient creature seemed truly taken aback by the ice, so Ardanthis pressed his advantage and began to fire a hailstorm of icy spells at the dragon as Argis charged it. The Nord quickly scaled its ruined wing and began to jab his sword into the space between the scales on the beast's back.

Shaking itself like a wet dog, the dragon attempted to dislodge the warrior while still aiming its deadly breath through the hail that pounded it. It seemed unable to do either, and with a despairing roar it collapsed to the ground, bloody and broken.

Filled a deep, raw anger, Ard stalked up to the creature and met its gaze. His husband joined him as they glowered down at the humbled dragon.

It gasped in a breath and rumbled, "Alduin will devour you. You will not be able to escape his hunger. You have bested me, but he will best you, Dovahkiin. Your people will fall."

"We'll kill every one of your kin just as we killed you, dragon," spat Argis. He raised his sword to jam it through the dragon's eye and into its brain.

"No," said Ard, "Wait." Both the dragon and Argis looked at him with surprise. The Altmer looked down at the dragon and said, "You know who I am. You know if you die here I will absorb your soul. You will become nothing."

"I do not fear death, Dovahkiin," answered the dragon.

"Liar," said the elf simply, "You do not fear death because you evidently have a way to come back to this world. If I devour your soul you will never be able to return." There was a moment of hesitation before the elf said, "Dragon, I have a deal for you."

The sheer shock shown on Argis' face could not have been greater as he heard the elf say, "Give me your word that you will no longer trouble the peoples of Skyrim for as long as I live if I restore you and that you will carry me to Alduin. It is time to end this. I've tried to avoid being Dragonborn for far too long. I cannot stand by any longer."

"I..." the dragon's hesitation was evident, "agree. I swear that while you live, Dovahkiin, I will not attack our ancient slaves. I will carry you to Alduin so you will die quickly," said the dragon, its shame evident in its tone.

Argis finally spoke up and snarled, "You can't seriously trust this creature!"

"Argis," the elf said softly, "Every last legend says that dragons are creatures of their word. I can trust it because it wants Alduin to kill me."

Without any further time wasted, his hands glowed with a golden light that he allowed to seep into the dragon's wounds. The membrane between the wings was rapidly restored under his light and when his magic gave out he began to mix crude healing potions in a hollow in a boulder.

Hours later, the dragon was standing once more before the exhausted elf and his husband. Thought it wasn't completely healed it was strong enough to fly. Both of them doubted they could kill the dragon if it decided to betray them and it also knew that it had the upper hand.

Without fanfare, it lowered one of its wings and allowed the two men to climb up on it. "You will see the world through our eyes, Dovahkiin," rumbled the dragon as it felt the men settle in behind it. They seated themselves between the spines on its back as the dragon beat its wings and took off.

Neither man had flown before, so each was stunned by the wind tearing at their faces and the sprawling vista below them. The dragon made sure its flight was steady and that its passengers wouldn't accidentally be bucked off as it soared through the brilliant daylight.

Ard took the opportunity to recover his strength and used tiny pulses of healing magic to keep the cold and high altitude from giving him frostbite. Argis seemed unbothered by the temperature and actually seemed to be enjoying the flight.

The bright day wore on and still the dragon flew onward and eventually began to angle towards a small island off of the western coast. Worn, ancient battlements rose high over a lush forest that surrounded the ancient structure. Far down below, Draugr patrolled the crumbling fortress but the dragon flew over them without hesitation.

It circled high over the heart of the fortress where a large portal glowed. Alduin walked slowly towards it and Ard's breath caught in his throat. He remembered that dragon from his near-execution in Helgen and his blood boiled for vengeance.

Alduin looked up at the approaching dragon and hurried into the portal. His mount turned sharply and balked at going through, but the elf placed two extremely cold hands on its neck and urged, "Go in. Your word binds you."

With a roar of dismay the dragon banked and came around as it angled to enter the portal which was starting to dwindle. "Hurry!" urged the elf as he saw the only way to his ultimate enemy disappearing.

His dragon furiously beat its wings as it hurtled through the portal. After a disorienting moment where the elf felt disconnected from both time and space they appeared in a strange, misty landscape.

Alduin circled high over head and Ard's gaze immediately oriented on his foe and he felt some sort of gut-wrenching compulsion to fight the Devourer. It felt like every moment, even the ones on the Summerset Isles, had been leading up to this moment.

Before anything else could happen, the Devourer roared something in the dragon language and Ard understood none of it except for the end, "Fusaartho you have betrayed me!" Alduin was suddenly diving towards the lesser dragon who desperately tried to dodge. Instead of slamming down into the middle of Fusaartho's back and crushing his two passengers, Alduin caught the other dragon's haunches and dragged him down. Hot blood exploded into the air as Alduin's claws and teeth rent the other dragon's flesh.

Argis held onto Fusaartho in fear as they plummeted towards the earth. Unlike his husband, Ard took the chance to hurtle lightning bolts into Alduin's wing and ensured that the Devourer's appendage was too damaged to support him in the air.

Both dragons slammed into the strange, hard earth with bruising force. Luckily, the two riders were only thrown from Fusaartho's back as the dragon's body absorbed the worst of the impact.

A burst of light that heralded a dragon's death flared across the landscape and Ard hurried to his feet as he looked for Argis. He saw the Nord rush to his feet and draw his sword. Fusaartho's soul rushed into Alduin's gaping maw as the Devourer absorbed the slain dragon's essence.

Without hesitation the two mortals charged Alduin. A dazzling volley of lightning bolts peppered Alduin, who roared as he was pulled out of the euphoric feeling of feeding on another dragon's soul.

His distraction cost him as Argis threw his whole body into a powerful strike that jammed his blade deep into the dragon's leg. A hot gout of blood poured forth from the deep wound as Alduin roared in pain and spun faster than Argis thought a beast of his size could move. The dragon's thick tail slammed into the Nord's raised shield and blew the wind out of him as it launched the warrior through the air. The Nord's blade flashed through the air as it went flying far from Argis' hand.

Ard's heart stopped for a moment as he saw the blonde Nord fly through the air and roll as he hit the ground. "Argis!" he screamed with fear when he didn't see his husband move.

Alduin turned back to him and roared a challenge as Ard hurled a barrage of ice spikes at the dragon. The softly glowing spikes jabbed into the dragon's hide and punched through his scales. A roar of pain tore out of the dragon's throat and he turned on Ard with a vengeance.

Some unknown instinct warned the elf that his shield wouldn't be able to stop Alduin's flames like it stopped Fusaartho's. Scrambling desperately, Ard hid behind a massive boulder as a river of white-hot fire exploded over where he had been standing moments ago.

The boulder he was leaning against quickly grew hot as Alduin refocused his attack on Ard's shelter. Brilliant flames licked around the edges of his cover and the Altmer made himself as small of a target as he possibly could.

At last the stream of heat ended, Ard rushed around the boulder and quickly lashed out with bolts of lightning that blinded the dragon. Alduin reared back, roaring and whipping his head back, which allowed the Altmer to charge towards his wounded leg.

Alduin snarled and tried to reorient on his foe, but his injured leg hampered him. Ducking beneath a swiping wing the elf raced to the wounded leg and threw himself up on the massive, wounded leg.

Copious amounts of blood poured from the wound and Alduin kicked weakly as he roared in anger. Ard didn't stop his climb and quickly managed to get on top of Alduin. He steadied himself for a moment on the dragon's back and rushed towards the base of the Devourer's serpentine neck. He prayed to all the Divines that Alduin couldn't arch his neck far enough to incinerate him.

His prayers appeared to be answered and the dragon simply roared as it tried to shake itself free. Another burst of brilliant fire shot skyward as Alduin impotently displayed his anger.

Ard hesitated, unsure of what to do. The heat that radiated off of the dragon's body was already burning his boots and the elf rapidly tried to think of a way to kill Alduin before he was shaken off of his perch on the dragon's back.

He quickly shot shuddering jolts of electricity into Alduin but he knew it wouldn't be enough. The quaking dragon's motions were also made more violent by the bolts that pierced into him.

The elf's thoughts strayed to his husband and a tiny fraction of his mind screamed at him to try to find out if the Nord was dead or alive but he knew he couldn't do that without condemning all of Skyrim to destruction.

He thought of that icy land and of all the annoyance the cold had caused him, but in a flash of inspiration he decided to embrace the country's frigid environment.

A cool mist poured off his hands and the elf looked at them for a moment, wondering how his paltry cold magicka was going to chill a dragon of Alduin's proportions, but he gritted his teeth. It didn't matter anymore – he had to try. He gathered every last trace of icy energy he could and began to unload the spells into the dragon's broad back.

Massive spears of ice plunged into Alduin's back but sizzled away to nothing in moments as they fought against the heat that seemed to radiate from his body.

The barrage of ice sent the Devourer into a frantic fit of violent thrashing but the elf persisted. He threw himself into the magical effort as the ice poured into the dragon. Ard continued to cast until he felt hollow and devoid of any remaining energy.

Closing his eyes, Ard saw the Throat of the World's ice shrouded heights. He saw the icy waters of Markarth flowing through their stone paths. Windhelm's ancient, icy streets unfolded before his mind's eye and he could feel the wind tearing down the narrow corridors. Lastly, he let himself remember the power of Skyrim's wild places. The scrub grasses of rolling fields danced under the touch of the wind as the great aurora danced high over head. Roaring waves crashed onto the shores as icebergs drifted in the distance. Forests, covered in snow or lushly green, rustled as the animals raced through them.

Each thought flashed through the elf's mind as he thought of the land he had come to live in. It wasn't just a place to live, though, he realized as one more image touched his exhausted mind and strengthened his flagging spells.

Argis' scarred, tattooed, and handsome face floated foremost in his thoughts. Skyrim was a place to live until he had met Argis and then it became a home. It became more than a land where the hand of the Thalmor wasn't absolute. It became somewhere he wanted to live and to protect. He smiled as the cold intensified around him, seemingly fed by the memories of Skyrim.

Images of his husband laughing, fighting, broken hearted, and relaxing swam through his mind. Each one urged him to continue to fight against Alduin and to protect all of Skyrim – all of his home.

The last image to filter into his mind was the little cottage, smashed and burning, after the dragon attack. All of Skyrim would look like that if he failed here.

With renewed vigour he poured every last trace of himself into his spells. He sucked in a deep breath and roared, "FUS RO DAH!" and the concussive force of the blast pushed Alduin onto his belly while driving the ice shards that yet remained deeper into his flesh.

The Devourer's struggles grew weaker as Ard continued to pour his magical power into the beast's body. He drew on every trace of Skyrim's icy nature to feed his in this strange land as he unleashed everything he had.

Alduin finally buckled and collapsed to the ground in a cold, broken heap. His death throws unsettled the wizard and Ard fell to the ground. One look at the blood soaked wreck of Alduin's large body told him the dragon was dead and his thoughts immediately turned to Argis.

He raced over to where he knew his husband lay and knelt beside the fallen Nord. "Please be alive, Argis," he begged as he gently rolled the Nord onto his back.

Glazed, unfocused eyes looked up at him and the Nord rasped, "Did we win?" Ard winced as he looked over Argis' wounds. His shield arm had shattered in numerous places and his breastplate had been caved in by the force of the dragon's attack. It seemed miraculous that the Nord still drew breath.

"Yes," whispered Ard as he looked for something – _anything_ – in him to give to his love. He closed his eyes and begged the Divines for just a bit more strength, just enough to save one life. What good was it to have saved Skyrim if he lost the one thing that truly made it his home?

He dredged the corners of his soul for anything left he could use but came up empty handed. Panic began to set in as he continued to dig. "We've been here how many times, love?" asked the Nord with a soft, bloody smile. He coughed up pink froth, "Each time you saved me, but I think... I think it's my time."

"_NO!_" roared the elf in response as he desperately looked inside. He couldn't lose Argis, not now, not ever. He silently begged and pleaded with every Divine and Daedric Prince he could think of for a way to save Argis, but no answer came. His hands shook in fear as he saw the Nord's breathing get shallower. This isn't how it ends. This can't be how it ends.

Bitterly, he imagined Skyrim without Argis and it was like the entire land had lost all of its warmth and vitality. It was only cold and ice without love.

The prospect of that deepest fear becoming real made him frantic. He slapped at his belt and jerkin as he sought any sort of potion, healing for Argis or magicka for himself, and found nothing. Even as Alduin exploded into light behind him, Ard's focus remained locked on the fallen man.

"Please, please don't leave me," he begged as a strange light began to swirl around him. He felt some sort of force tugging at him, pulling him away from Argis. He threw himself onto the Nord and refused to let go as the light washed over him. Another moment of that strange disconnection from reality saw the elf back near the ruin of their cottage.

The fire had burned down and only cold ash remained to be stirred by the wind. A trace of that icy wind blew over Ardanthis and seemed to whisper to the elf of all the grace and glory that had inspired him to defeat Alduin.

Ard seized the slight trace of magicka that began to stir in his blood again as he called a faint glow of light to his hands and pressed the renewing energy into the wound. It wouldn't be nearly enough and he knew it. Argis would bleed to death long before Ardanthis managed to muster enough magical energy to restore him.

"By Shor's bones," called a voice from nearby and the words were followed by the heavy thud of boots. Ard looked up, unsure if he had it in him to defend them against a bandit. His jaw nearly dropped as he looked at Brun racing towards him. Without hesitation he knelt next to Argis's broken body and looked over the wounds for a moment. The Nord pulled out a red bottle and eased the contents down Argis' throat. "We heard the noise and saw the light from Falkreath," he breathlessly explained, "And we hurried here to see if you both were alright."

Without asking for further explanation or offering any of his own, Ard removed Argis' breastplate so the Nord's chest could heal unimpeded by the hard, dented steel. He watched another healing potion disappear down his husband's throat and his breath caught as he watched Argis' once-strong shield arm snap back into a much more natural position. Drawing in a deep breath, Ard laid his hands on Argis' chest and funnelled his remaining magicka into another burst of healing light.

Relief swept through him as he saw the Nord's breathing ease and he nearly sobbed with joy. He knew deep in his gut that Argis would live. Brun rose to his feet and rapidly blathered, "I'll get the priest. Don't worry!" before thundering off into the trees.

Argis opened his eyes and looked at Ardanthis with a small smile, "We saved Skyrim, didn't we?"

"We did, Argis, we did," replied Ard as he pressed more healing magicka into the Nord's shattered body.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

AN: How did you guys find the end of Alduin? I actually really struggled to find a half-decent way of killing him off without telling the entire game's plot. That was my solution, and I feel it was slightly graceless and too quick but I couldn't really think of much else. The next chapter will be the finale but I couldn't decide how I wanted to end this story so I'm going to post two endings that will begin the same but have different conclusions. As always, please feel free to leave any sort of criticism or feedback you want – I appreciate it.


	22. Epilogue A

AN: This is the first of two possible endings to _Beneath the Shield_. I hope you enjoyed reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it! Feel free to leave any comments you'd like at the end.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Argis' mind snapped back through time to his present situation as the roar of fire echoed through the cavern. He braced for the impact, for the pain, and the death that would likely follow. His smile was hidden by the rim of his shield as he remembered returning to Falkreath after Alduin's death.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

They had rebuilt their house together after the little cottage was burned down and numerous gifts of thanks for largely ending the dragon threat had filled their coffers. In a world largely at peace, a bigger house was erected with the gold that they had and it was built over the site of the burned down cottage.

So many happy years had passed with Ardanthis and Argis living happily together. They relentlessly, remorselessly fought against the evils that still plagued the land but they did so with lighter hearts because back home there were two little hearts waiting for them.

Argis remembered the day they had visited Riften and the orphanage there. They had been overjoyed when they left with Runa Fair-Shield and Hroar in tow with them. The two children had been so spirited at the cold, dank orphanage and lifting them out of that place had only helped them to soar higher.

Runa had grown up into a fine warrior. Her spirit and self-possession, which had drawn the two men to her in the orphanage, manifested more strongly as she grew. The headstrong girl had taken to the stories her fathers told about their adventures together and she knew the story behind each trophy in their large manor.

She quickly took up swordplay and grew to be an accomplished warrior in her own right. Argis smiled as he remembered how she had met her husband, Ursten, on a mission to rid a camp of bandits from the roads around Whiterun where she had settled after leaving Falkreath. They had fought so well together she fell in love with him and quickly found him to be an honourable Nord. They already had two children together and she was heavy with her third pregnancy. The priests had told her to expect twins.

Hroar, unlike his sister, had loved his fathers' stories for their dramatic elements. He had grown up to be a bear of a man and became a mountain of muscle as he travelled Skyrim. Hroar was well-known in all of the holds as a man who always had an interesting story to tell. He never shied away from listening to any tale and he loved to explore lost places. He had developed a love for the dwemer ruins that dotted the lands and his curiosity led him to explore them to their depths.

Unlike Runa, who hadn't looked for love until she stumbled upon her husband, Hroar was unabashed in his pursuit of both men and women. He never pretended to look for true love, but seemed to quickly fall into brief, passionate loves with people as he learned as much about their life story as he could.

Neither child was with Argis when the summons had gone out. Though he was far too old to leave their house and fight the ever-present threats that afflicted Skyrim, Argis still travelled out to fight when he had long ago hung up his blade. Argis had been called upon by an Imperial agent who had showed up at his property unannounced. The officious man identified himself as Argenius and quickly explained his presence. A coven of vampires had sprung up and plagued the countryside around Markarth and Ard had travelled out to deal with them. The elf hadn't been heard from again, though.

Argis had strapped on his battle armour and magical blade despite the promises by the Imperial emissary that he would be safe and wouldn't need them.

He remembered the long ride to the coven's location. Apparently, the Altmer was supposed to have finished clearing out the coven long ago, and they assumed the worst. It was unlikely the Dragonborn had been killed by these almost feral vampires, but the greater unspoken fear was that he had been turned into one of them.

Argis knew that he would be called upon to fight his husband or try to reason with him if the elf had become a ravenous undead monster. The thought sickened and terrified him as he tried to imagine the elf's face twisted with a mindless bloodlust.

Their entrance into the coven was promising. Almost a dozen ash outlines of slain vampires covered the floor amidst tattered clothes and a scattering of weapons. The Imperial escort fanned out as they quickly searched the adjacent rooms and reported a few more slain vampires. The soldiers' enchanted swords gleamed softly in the lights that the mage who accompanied them scattered brilliant lights ahead of them to reveal any lurking ambushers. Their clattering armour made stealth impossible, so they opted to flush out any remaining monsters with bright light.

The conjured lights continued to reveal dead vampire after dead vampire which made the warriors all the more uneasy. If so many of the fierce creatures had been slain so easily then what had managed to stop the Dragonborn?

Their descent continued and with it the light revealed a crude sort of home that the vampires had established. Dead bodies, drained of all their blood, periodically dotted the caves but there was little sign of any sort of danger.

Drawing deeper into the cave, they had reached a door that led to the heart of the foul place. From underneath it a gentle blue glow pulsated and drew the warriors onward. Soft whimpers and the odd scream were muffled by the door as they approached, and they fearfully hesitated before the sharp glower of their commander urged them on. They approached the door with caution, ready for magical wards and other spells to spring into motion around them, but nothing happened as they opened the door.

Argis clutched his dragonbone sword in a grip that was white-knuckled under his glove as he nervously looked at the door as it cracked open. He hadn't faced this much excitement in years and he trusted in the protective enchantments that were woven into his armour to shield him from anything that might emerge.

The Imperials burst into the blue glowing room, ready to lay into whatever ancient vampire might be residing there.

Shock coloured their faces as they beheld the Dragonborn peering over a spread-eagled vampire and cutting into him carefully. The creature was bound to a large stone altar which had hollow worn into it where old, crusted blood collected. It suddenly hissed, screeched, and suddenly threw its head back. Though it was restrained it managed to thrash as it suddenly burst into dust.

"Damn!" shouted the elf with anger as he angrily swept his hand through the ash that covered the large altar. He didn't look up as he said, "Hello, Argis. I wasn't expecting to see you for a while yet."

"Love," he began with obvious nervousness, "What were you doing to that vampire?" Though he thought they were abominations, the idea of his husband torturing one made his stomach churn in a way simple battle couldn't.

The elf sighed softly and said, "I was...experimenting on it. I wanted-"

"He's one of them," Argenius called out as the Imperial mage raised his hand and it flared with a purple light. The Imperials fell into a battle formation as Argenius continued, "These vampires have turned the Dragonborn and he _must_ be put down for the good of all of the Empire."

Outrage flashed over Ard's face as he coolly raised his chin and spat, "_These_ vampires didn't turn anyone. Don't give these savages more credit than they deserve. They were barely surviving as it was."

Confusion filled Argis' mind as the implication in those words struck him. He asked, his voice fearful, "If they didn't turn you, but you are a vampire, then how long have you been one of them?"

Ardanthis looked sadly at his husband and answered, "A long time, Argis. A long, long time."

"Why!?" demanded the Nord as the Imperial legionnaires moved steadily towards the elf.

The Altmer seemed to hesitate before he answered, "I might live for centuries, but you won't." His words came out in a rush, "I was so afraid of losing you that I began to explore more ways to help you preserve your life. I've been exploring vampire's immortality. These...tests led me to a very ancient, very powerful clan who showed me what vampirism truly could be. This wasn't a condition just to be studied but something to be embraced."

His face hardened as he looked at the carefully approaching soldiers. "Stand down," he ordered, his lip curling in disgust.

Argenius coolly ordered, "Keep advancing. He might have been the Dragonborn, but he is now nothing more than a monster. It is your duty to take him into custody."

"Your soldiers know I can kill all of them before even one of them makes it to me," said Ard with a small shrug, "I suggest they stop approaching before I kill one of them as an example."

The line halted slowly as they looked at each other nervously before they continued to hesitantly advance, but their line was no longer as unified. They all knew of and were all scared of the Dragonborn's reputation.

"It doesn't have to end this way," called the elf as fire sprang up from his hands. He looked down at the approaching Imperials as fire crawled along his dragonscale gauntlets.

Argis raised his shield, uncertain if the explosions would hurt him. He still mentally reeled at the idea that his husband had been a vampire all along. For decades had he really loved a monster? His line of thought was interrupted as he was grabbed from behind and he froze as he felt a hard edge of steel press against his throat.

"Surrender peacefully, vampire, or I will kill Argis!" Argenius threatened. Though the old Nord couldn't see his assailant, he could hear the smile in the Imperial commander's voice as the man said, "Harm any of my men and your husband dies."

"Harm my husband and you and all of your men will die slowly and painfully," promised the elf. He cocked his head slightly to the side and said, "But you, Commander, you I might turn into a thrall."

Argenius' lips twitched in a cold smile as he said, "Argis will be dead and you will be a fugitive in every hold in Skyrim, even if you kill me. Your children will also be suspect and hunted if you leave here unscathed.

The fire that had kept Argis upright and determined to die to save the elf's secret died when his two children were threatened. Images of Runa and her husband fleeing Whiterun's guards and Hroar being chained in a cell filled his mind.

The stalemate continued as the soldiers slowed down and seemed to visibly hope for a peaceful resolution. "Release Argis and I will go peacefully," grudgingly said Ardanthis with defeat in his voice.

"Hardly!" laughed Argenius, "You'll kill us all without a second thought if I were to let Argis go. Surrender first and be shackled. Then I will release Argis."

The Altmer's gaze rested on Argis with evident worry as he slowly walked towards the soldiers who waited for him warily. With quick steps the wizard hurried down to the elf with a pair of runed shackles in his hands.

Smug satisfaction poured off of Argenius and nauseated the old Nord. Argis could feel the Imperial's distraction and sensed the blade move away from his throat a hair's breadth. In a flash he tried to thrust it away from his neck but the Imperial fought back. Despite the struggle Argis almost made it out of Argenius' grasp when he felt a hot lance of pain stab into his side.

He staggered two more steps before he collapsed, his hand slapped over the puncture in his side that poured blood onto the stone floor. "Argis!" he heard his love scream but the sound seemed to come from a great distance.

Numbly, he knew he was bleeding badly but he knew he had no way of saving himself. He watched, mesmerized, as black shadows swept over his husband and the darkness-shrouded figure seemed to swell larger. The Imperial soldiers hesitated and even the mage looked surprised. The shadows peeled off of Ardanthis and revealed a grey skinned, muscular form with bony wings that flapped and somehow supported the powerful body. The shadows turned into a swarm of hungry bats that circled around the strange vampire.

Instinctively, Argis felt a sense of horror at the creature that hissed loudly at the soldiers in front of it but it's face was so close to that of his husband's that he felt no real fear.

The Imperial wizard was the only one who didn't hesitate and he quickly hurled a bolt of fire at the monstrous creature. Ard bellowed in anger and his right hand flared a deep crimson. He hurled a glowing red ball of energy into the crowd in front of him. They screamed as the magic leeched the life force from them and the burn wound on the vampire's chest faded.

Two more crimson bursts tore through the soldiers and left the small force a desiccated pile of bodies on the ground. Argenius looked around, horrified that he was alone with this creature. He turned to run but Ard reached out with his left hand and a tether of yellow light manifested around the Imperial and yanked him towards the vampire. He slammed into the ground at Ard's feet.

The vampire stopped flapping and bent down. He picked Argenius up by his throat and smiled cruelly before tearing the man's throat out with his long nails. Without further hesitation he dropped the body and beat his strange wings hard as he soared up to Argis and knelt down next to the fallen Nord.

So this is how it ends, thought Argis as he looked up into the surprisingly undistorted feature's of his husband. He had imagined he would have died in their house when his heart stopped. He never would have thought he would die at the hands of his vampiric husband who looked down, hungrily Argis imagined, at the blood that still leaked from the stab wound.

"Oh Argis, not you," murmured the vampire, his voice unnaturally deep, as his hands flared with the healing golden light that Argis was so familiar with. Though the wound sealed Argis could still feel his life fading away.

Panic struck across the vampire's features as he realized the spell wasn't enough. More pulses of golden light washed over Argis, but the Nord knew he was fading out. He would count himself lucky if he died before he felt his husband feed on him. Now that he could feel his time coming, he wasn't scared of dying. He had nearly died so often before, but this time there was no spell that could pull him back.

"I promised you that I'd never lose you, Argis. I wanted to give you the gift of immortality but not like this. I don't have a choice, I'm sorry," murmured the elf as he gently lifted Argis up. The Nord could feel those strangely thin wings supporting his back as his husband enfolded him in an embrace. An icy pinch in his neck told him that the vampire was feeding on him and he wept softly before darkness crawled across his vision.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Ardanthis looked down at his husband fearfully after reverting to his natural form. He had spent the last decade trying to find a way to extend the Nord's lifespan without resorting to transforming him into a vampire but the situation had forced his hand. He had sworn so long ago that he wouldn't lose Argis, not for anything.

The Nord lingered at the edge of death, his old heart finally having given out, and his body seemed to be struggling with the vampirism that Ard had gifted him with. Sweat poured off Argis' brow and he shook slightly as the necromantic magic worked on his body. Powerless to help his husband, Ard simply sat by and smoothed the Nord's hair as he waited to see if his gift would take hold.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Argis slowly opened his eyes and blinked groggily as sight returned to him. He sat up slowly and immediately saw Ard's relieved smile. "You made it!" exclaimed the elf with joy as he reached over and embraced the Nord warmly. Argis smiled and returned the embrace, not quite understanding why his husband was so excited.

His old shoulder didn't ache when he moved to return the hug and that began a landslide of memories. Pulling back he clutched at his neck and gasped in surprise and fear. "It's alright, Argis," murmured the elf as he gently took the Nord's face in his hands, "Your body accepted the vampirism and it'll all be ok now."

Panic surged in the Nord's mind as he tried to comprehend having lost his humanity. Was he a monster? He didn't feel like it.

He rushed to his feet, his head spinning, and turned towards the exit. "I don't know, love – what do I – how can I?" Argis murmured as his words stumbled over each other. There were so many questions that he wanted to ask.

"Don't worry, Argis. I'll walk you through this. I swore I'd never abandon you and I plan to keep that promise," said the elf soothingly as he took the Nord's hand. They collected the dazed human's dropped weapons and stepped out into the brilliant starlit night.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Ard looked at his husband's grinning face as the sunlight streamed down on them and made Argis' blonde hair look like it was made of gold. It had been a decade since that day that Argis had embraced the night. The wizard had collapsed the cavern system behind him and the pair had vanished from the limelight of Skyrim's society. Only Runa and Hroar knew the truth about their parents but the rest of Skyrim was led to believe they had died in the cave in.

The pair slipped through the crowds of the various holds and acted like nothing more than visiting merchants of wealth. Having just fed the night before on a pretty girl they had charmed they walked the streets fearlessly. Ard had ensured the woman had survived their encounter none the worse for wear and the two vampires stepped through the streets of Windhelm with confidence.

They slipped past Hjerim in their travels and Ard smiled at the old building. Hroar frequently lived in the old building when he was in town but it stood silent and empty right now. Calder had surprisingly kept his word even after Ard had supposedly died. The housecarl had publicly lived a life worthy of the best of the Nord warriors and had died in his sleep five years ago.

Though it had been years since they had walked the city's streets, the ancient stones seemed unchanged by time. Crowds of people surged through the narrow streets of Windhelm, but they seemed to be made up of the same people that had populated the city decades ago. Individuals died but the crowd was nigh on eternal.

Exchanging a wordless glance and a smile, the pair headed towards the inn to look for their evening's entertainment and meal.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The handsome young Imperial laughed that infectious laugh loudly as he was led to the room that the vampires had rented. His dark eyes sparkled with the wine and excitement as the Argis grinned at him. While shorter than either Argis or Ard, the Imperial grinned widely, his perfectly straight teeth flashing in the dimly lit hallway of the small inn set just beyond the Grey Quarter.

Dressed in finely tailored clothes, Argis led the man into their room and quickly swept him into a powerful embrace.

Ard was already disrobing as he hungrily eyed the two men passionately feeling each other's hard bodies. It seemed surreal to him that just a decade ago this would have sent him into a fearful anger as he thought his marriage was falling apart. Now? Now it only reminded him that Argis' joy was his joy and that forever lay before them. Long after this virile Imperial was dust in the ground they would be passing through the cities of Skyrim and experiencing the pleasures of life.

Argis pulled down the young man's pants and winked playfully at Ard as he bared the other man's perfect ass. With a wide grin, Ard moved in to give and take his share of the joy he knew so well.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

AN: And so it ends. Also, I know that vampirism doesn't reverse aging but just stops someone at that age but I hated the idea of an very strong but very old looking Argis, so I fudged it a little bit. My apologies if that bothered anyone. I also know that you can't cast healing spells in your vampire form, but I didn't want to let game mechanics make for a clunky story.

I can only thank everyone who actually read through this entire story and offered their criticisms to help me improve. I never actually intended for this to explode to this length, you know. It was actually my first foray into novel-esque writing and every piece of advice given to me has helped me improve my writing. I've read every single comment that's been left and each of them, positive or negative, has meant a lot to me because they mean that someone cared enough about the story to say something.

As my final message, I ask again for any sort of criticism or final comments that you might give. Did you like this ending? I also wonder which ending you guys thought was more fitting, this one or the second one. I'll mark the fic as completed, but any comments will still be emailed to me so don't doubt that I'll still be reading them!

P.S. There's a slightly different AN at the end of Epilogue B.


	23. Epilogue B

AN: This is the second of two possible endings to Beneath the Shield. I hope you enjoyed reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it! Feel free to leave any comments you'd like at the end.

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Argis' mind snapped back through time to his present situation as the roar of fire echoed through the cavern. He braced for the impact, for the pain, and the death that would likely follow. His smile was hidden by the rim of his shield as he remembered returning to Falkreath after Alduin's death.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

They had rebuilt their house together after the little cottage was burned down and numerous gifts of thanks for largely ending the dragon threat had filled their coffers. In a world largely at peace, a bigger house was erected with the gold that they had and it was built over the site of the burned down cottage.

So many happy years had passed with Ardanthis and Argis living happily together. They relentlessly, remorselessly fought against the evils that still plagued the land but they did so with lighter hearts because back home there were two little hearts waiting for them.

Argis remembered the day they had visited Riften and the orphanage there. They had been overjoyed when they left with Runa Fair-Shield and Hroar in tow with them. The two children had been so spirited at the cold, dank orphanage and lifting them out of that place had only helped them to soar higher.

Runa had grown up into a fine warrior. Her spirit and self-possession, which had drawn the two men to her in the orphanage, manifested more strongly as she grew. The headstrong girl had taken to the stories her fathers told about their adventures together and she knew the story behind each trophy in their large manor.

She quickly took up swordplay and grew to be an accomplished warrior in her own right. Argis smiled as he remembered how she had met her husband, Ursten, on a mission to rid a camp of bandits from the roads around Whiterun where she had settled after leaving Falkreath. They had fought so well together she fell in love with him and quickly found him to be an honourable Nord. They already had two children together and she was heavy with her third pregnancy. The priests had told her to expect twins.

Hroar, unlike his sister, had loved his fathers' stories for their dramatic elements. He had grown up to be a bear of a man and became a mountain of muscle as he travelled Skyrim. Hroar was well-known in all of the holds as a man who always had an interesting story to tell. He never shied away from listening to any tale and he loved to explore lost places. He had developed a love for the dwemer ruins that dotted the lands and his curiosity led him to explore them to their depths.

Unlike Runa, who hadn't looked for love until she stumbled upon her husband, Hroar was unabashed in his pursuit of both men and women. He never pretended to look for true love, but seemed to quickly fall into brief, passionate loves with people as he learned as much about their life story as he could.

Neither child was with Argis when the summons had gone out. Though he was far too old to leave their house and fight the ever-present threats that afflicted Skyrim, Argis still travelled out to fight when he had long ago hung up his blade. Argis had been called upon by an Imperial agent who had showed up at his property unannounced. The officious man identified himself as Argenius and quickly explained his presence. A coven of vampires had sprung up and plagued the countryside around Markarth and Ard had travelled out to deal with them. The elf hadn't been heard from again, though.

Argis had strapped on his battle armour and magical blade despite the promises by the Imperial emissary that he would be safe and wouldn't need them.

He remembered the long ride to the coven's location. Apparently, the Altmer was supposed to have finished clearing out the coven long ago, and they assumed the worst. It was unlikely the Dragonborn had been killed by these almost feral vampires, but the greater unspoken fear was that he had been turned into one of them.

Argis knew that he would be called upon to fight his husband or try to reason with him if the elf had become a ravenous undead monster. The thought sickened and terrified him as he tried to imagine the elf's face twisted with a mindless bloodlust.

Their entrance into the coven was promising. Almost a dozen ash outlines of slain vampires covered the floor amidst tattered clothes and a scattering of weapons. The Imperial escort fanned out as they quickly searched the adjacent rooms and reported a few more slain vampires. The soldiers' enchanted swords gleamed softly in the lights that the mage who accompanied them scattered brilliant lights ahead of them to reveal any lurking ambushers. Their clattering armour made stealth impossible, so they opted to flush out any remaining monsters with bright light.

The conjured lights continued to reveal dead vampire after dead vampire which made the warriors all the more uneasy. If so many of the fierce creatures had been slain so easily then what had managed to stop the Dragonborn?

Their descent continued and with it the light revealed a crude sort of home that the vampires had established. Dead bodies, drained of all their blood, periodically dotted the caves but there was little sign of any sort of danger.

Drawing deeper into the cave, they had reached a door that led to the heart of the foul place. From underneath it a gentle blue glow pulsated and drew the warriors onward. Soft whimpers and the odd scream were muffled by the door as they approached, and they fearfully hesitated before the sharp glower of their commander urged them on. They approached the door with caution, ready for magical wards and other spells to spring into motion around them, but nothing happened as they opened the door.

Argis clutched his dragonbone sword in a grip that was white-knuckled under his glove as he nervously looked at the door as it cracked open. He hadn't faced this much excitement in years and he trusted in the protective enchantments that were woven into his armour to shield him from anything that might emerge.

The Imperials burst into the blue glowing room, ready to lay into whatever ancient vampire might be residing there.

Shock coloured their faces as they beheld the Dragonborn peering over a spread-eagled vampire and cutting into him carefully. The creature was bound to a large stone altar which had hollow worn into it where old, crusted blood collected. It suddenly hissed, screeched, and suddenly threw its head back. Though it was restrained it managed to thrash as it suddenly burst into dust.

"Damn!" shouted the elf with anger as he angrily swept his hand through the ash that covered the large altar. He didn't look up as he said, "Hello, Argis. I wasn't expecting to see you for a while yet."

"Love," he began with obvious nervousness, "What were you doing to that vampire?" Though he thought they were abominations, the idea of his husband torturing one made his stomach churn in a way simple battle couldn't.

The elf sighed softly and said, "I was...experimenting on it. I wanted-"

"He's one of them," Argenius called out as the Imperial mage raised his hand and it flared with a purple light. The Imperials fell into a battle formation as Argenius continued, "These vampires have turned the Dragonborn and he _must_ be put down for the good of all of the Empire."

Outrage flashed over Ard's face as he coolly raised his chin and spat, "_These_ vampires didn't turn anyone. Don't give these savages more credit than they deserve. They were barely surviving as it was."

Confusion filled Argis' mind as the implication in those words struck him. He asked, his voice fearful, "If they didn't turn you, but you are a vampire, then how long have you been one of them?"

Ardanthis looked sadly at his husband and answered, "A long time, Argis. A long, long time."

"Why!?" demanded the Nord as the Imperial legionnaires moved steadily towards the elf.

The Altmer seemed to hesitate before he answered, "I might live for centuries, but you won't." His words came out in a rush, "I was so afraid of losing you that I began to explore more ways to help you preserve your life. I've been exploring vampire's immortality. These...tests led me to a very ancient, very powerful clan who showed me what vampirism truly could be. This wasn't a condition just to be studied but something to be embraced."

His face hardened as he looked at the carefully approaching soldiers. "Stand down," he ordered, his lip curling in disgust.

Argenius coolly ordered, "Keep advancing. He might have been the Dragonborn, but he is now nothing more than a monster. It is your duty to take him into custody."

"Your soldiers know I can kill all of them before even one of them makes it to me," said Ard with a small shrug, "I suggest they stop approaching before I kill one of them as an example."

The line halted slowly as they looked at each other nervously before they continued to hesitantly advance, but their line was no longer as unified. They all knew of and were all scared of the Dragonborn's reputation.

"It doesn't have to end this way," called the elf as fire sprang up from his hands. He looked down at the approaching Imperials as fire crawled along his dragonscale gauntlets.

Argis raised his shield, uncertain if the explosions would hurt him. He still mentally reeled at the idea that his husband had been a vampire all along. For decades had he really loved a monster? His line of thought was interrupted as he was grabbed from behind and he froze as he felt a hard edge of steel press against his throat.

"Surrender peacefully, vampire, or I will kill Argis!" Argenius threatened. Though the old Nord couldn't see his assailant, he could hear the smile in the Imperial commander's voice as the man said, "Harm any of my men and your husband dies."

"Harm my husband and you and all of your men will die slowly and painfully," promised the elf. He cocked his head slightly to the side and said, "But you, Commander, you I might turn into a thrall."

Argenius' lips twitched in a cold smile as he said, "Argis will be dead and you will be a fugitive in every hold in Skyrim, even if you kill me. Your children will also be suspect and hunted if you leave here unscathed.

The fire that had kept Argis upright and determined to die to save the elf's secret died when his two children were threatened. Images of Runa and her husband fleeing Whiterun's guards and Hroar being chained in a cell filled his mind.

The stalemate continued as the soldiers slowed down and seemed to visibly hope for a peaceful resolution. "Release Argis and I will go peacefully," grudgingly said Ardanthis with defeat in his voice.

"Hardly!" laughed Argenius, "You'll kill us all without a second thought if I were to let Argis go. Surrender first and be shackled. Then I will release Argis."

The Altmer's gaze rested on Argis with evident worry as he slowly walked towards the soldiers who waited for him warily. With quick steps the wizard hurried down to the elf with a pair of runed shackles in his hands.

Smug satisfaction poured off of Argenius and nauseated the old Nord. Argis could feel the Imperial's distraction and sensed the blade move away from his throat a hair's breadth. In a flash he tried to thrust it away from his neck but the Imperial fought back. Despite the struggle Argis almost made it out of Argenius' grasp when he felt a hot lance of pain stab into his side.

He staggered two more steps before he collapsed, his hand slapped over the puncture in his side that poured blood onto the stone floor. "Argis!" he heard his love scream but the sound seemed to come from a great distance.

Numbly, he knew he was bleeding badly but he knew he had no way of saving himself. He watched, mesmerized, as black shadows swept over his husband and the darkness-shrouded figure seemed to swell larger. The Imperial soldiers hesitated and even the mage looked surprised. The shadows peeled off of Ardanthis and revealed a grey skinned, muscular form with bony wings that flapped and somehow supported the powerful body. The shadows turned into a swarm of hungry bats that circled around the strange vampire.

Instinctively, Argis felt a sense of horror at the creature that hissed loudly at the soldiers in front of it but it's face was so close to that of his husband's that he felt no real fear.

The Imperial wizard was the only one who didn't hesitate and he quickly hurled a bolt of fire at the monstrous creature. Ard bellowed in anger and his right hand flared a deep crimson. He hurled a glowing red ball of energy into the crowd in front of him. They screamed as the magic leeched the life force from them and the burn wound on the vampire's chest faded.

Two more crimson bursts tore through the soldiers and left the small force a desiccated pile of bodies on the ground. Argenius looked around, horrified that he was alone with this creature. He turned to run but Ard reached out with his left hand and a tether of yellow light manifested around the Imperial and yanked him towards the vampire. He slammed into the ground at Ard's feet.

The vampire stopped flapping and bent down. He picked Argenius up by his throat and smiled cruelly before tearing the man's throat out with his long nails. Without further hesitation he dropped the body and beat his strange wings hard as he soared up to Argis and knelt down next to the fallen Nord.

So this is how it ends, thought Argis as he looked up into the surprisingly undistorted feature's of his husband. He had imagined he would have died in their house when his heart stopped. He never would have thought he would die at the hands of his vampiric husband who looked down, hungrily Argis imagined, at the blood that still leaked from the stab wound.

"Oh Argis, not you," murmured the vampire, his voice unnaturally deep, as his hands flared with the healing golden light that Argis was so familiar with. Though the wound sealed Argis could still feel his life fading away.

Panic struck across the vampire's features as he realized the spell wasn't enough. More pulses of golden light washed over Argis, but the Nord knew he was fading out. He would count himself lucky if he died before he felt his husband feed on him. Now that he could feel his time coming, he wasn't scared of dying. He had nearly died so often before, but this time there was no spell that could pull him back.

"I promised you that I'd never lose you, Argis. I wanted to give you the gift of immortality but not like this. I don't have a choice, I'm sorry," murmured the elf as he gently lifted Argis up. The Nord could feel those strangely thin wings supporting his back as his husband enfolded him in an embrace. An icy pinch in his neck told him that the vampire was feeding on him and he wept softly before darkness crawled across his vision.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Ardanthis looked down at his husband fearfully after reverting to his natural form. He had spent the last decade trying to find a way to extend the Nord's lifespan without resorting to transforming him into a vampire but the situation had forced his hand. He had sworn so long ago that he wouldn't lose Argis, not for anything.

The Nord lingered at the edge of death, his old heart finally having given out, and his body seemed to be struggling with the vampirism that Ard had gifted him with. Sweat poured off Argis' brow and he shook slightly as the necromantic magic worked on his body. Powerless to help his husband, Ard simply sat by and smoothed the Nord's hair as he waited to see if his gift would take hold.

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Returned to his natural form, a choked sob escaped Ardanthis as he watched Argis' shallow breathing finally stop. "No," he hoarsely whispered as he watched a peaceful expression settle onto the Nord's slack features. "No!" he roared as he desperately poured golden healing magics into Argis' cooling flesh. Even he could see that the spells were having no effect and he settled back and wept bitterly.

He looked with hatred at the dead Imperials who had done this to his husband but he couldn't hurt them anymore. They were already dead and beyond his reach. He stripped the wizard of his robe and left the body on the stone floor with its trifling magical artifacts.

A flash of gold on Argis' finger caught his attention and his gaze caught on the simple golden band that they had each worn since they had been married. He released a choked sob before he drew a shuddering breath in and looked away.

With a heavy heart he gathered up Argis' body and equipment and wrapped them in the wizard's robe, using it like a shroud, before he carried them out into the brilliant glare of the day outside. He knew his husband's weight well but the body felt strangely heavy in his arms as he carried it outside.

Each piece of armour that the Nord wore had been handcrafted by Ard and they brought back a flood of memories with each step. Each one commemorated a victory.

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A deafening roar heralded the collapse of the vampires' lair as the wizard's spells exploded throughout the tunnel system. He would disappear after this and the world would think he had died in the collapse or died in battle against the Imperial force. Let it think what it would.

The sunlight didn't sting his skin for he still was vibrantly alive with the lifeforce that he had taken from Argis while trying to give his husband immortality. It tore at his mind to know that the Nord had spent their last moments feeling betrayed but he knew where he wanted to bury the Nord. He knew that the promise of powerful magical artifacts would draw adventurers like he had been to look for Argis' tomb and loot it for its treasures.

He looked far off in the distance towards where he knew High Hrothgar towered high over the landscape around it. With a whispered magical word he summoned his tireless, skeletal horse and gently tied Argis' body to it. Mounting the steed he kicked its exposed ribs and set it galloping off towards the home of the Greybeards.

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The doors to the Greybeards' sanctuary opened quietly under his soft touch. One of the old men looked up at him with surprise but only nodded with understanding when he saw the dead body cradled in his arms and the expression on the elf's face.

Ard passed through the small monastery quickly before he finished ascending the last stretch of the mountain and arrived at the very top.

Paarthurnax looked up, his ancient gaze filled with sorrow as he looked at the elf, "Dovahkiin," he rumbled simply.

Ardanthis simply nodded back, not trusting his voice with the thickness he felt in his throat. The immortal dragon looked at him with something akin to pity as the elf gently laid the body down on the ground before him.

A few simple spells dug a deep hole at the base of a large stone and Ard gently levitated the body of his husband into the hole before reburying him. This high up the mountain, no one would bother Argis' body, and the gifts the elf had made him in life would stay with him in death. He smiled ruefully as he thought of all the barrows and dwemer ruins they had plundered together. Large tombs attracted more thieves.

Raising a white-hot finger that burned brilliantly, Ard began to etch the large stone which was to be Argis' headstone. The work was careful and time consuming, but Ard didn't rush. Paarthurnax watched him silently.

Standing back, he looked over his handiwork and read aloud, "Here lies Argis the Bulwark, a true Nord who lived, fought, and died with passion and honour. He was brave enough to wed the Dragonborn and loved where no others would."

He smiled sadly at the inscription as lifetime of memories rolled through his mind. Knowing that Argis had died thinking his husband was nothing but a blood frenzied vampire tore at his heart and the elf prayed silently that in death the Divines had been merciful enough to correct that mistaken belief.

Snow began to gently fall on the Altmer as he looked down on the grave. The fat, white flakes began to cover over the recently dug up earth and Ard knew that in a short while the grave would be invisible except for the headstone.

A subtle movement in the falling snow caught his eye and he looked up at the strange motion that the snow made. It took him a moment to recognize what was happening, but his breath caught in his throat when it did. The snowflakes seemed to be landing on something invisible and outlining its shape.

Ard could only watch with his heart in his throat as the thickly falling flakes quickly outlined Argis' sadly smiling face. The Nord seemed to be wearing the simple steel armour he had when they had first met.

"Argis," whispered the elf with a voice that refused to rise as he looked at the apparition. A feel of serenity washed over the mountain top as Argis slowly raised his right hand and placed it over his heart and Ard could see a small, golden light gleaming where Argis' ring would have been had he been alive.

_Love. Forgive._ The words echoed through the elf's mind in two gentle pulses and were as much a sensation as a word. The elf sunk to his knees as relief washed through him. Argis _did_ know that he had been trying to help. The snowy apparition slowly approached the elf, its smile growing infinitely sadder.

Ard looked up at it and begged softly, "Please don't leave me. I'll find a way to bring you back. I'll find-" His words were cut off as Argis bent over and gently kissed Ard's forehead with his snowflake lips.

Memories of Ardanthis from Argis' perspective cascaded through the elf's mind and he saw a long stream of images of him happy or triumphant. He saw himself gut a bandit, a triumphant grin on his features, and a rush of adrenaline shot through his mind. He saw himself laughing as he took a bite of salmon as they sat at a small table and the intimacy of the moment stole his breath. He saw his own body as an object of lust as a large arm – had Argis' arm always been so strong? – swept him into an embrace.

The flood of thoughts washed over the elf and left him sobbing with a confused mixture of joy for moments shared but also for what he lost.

_Live_. Argis' ethereal voice rolled through his mind again but this time the tone was almost pleading and Ard understood what Argis was asking for. He could feel Argis urging him to make more memories like those with someone else, urging him to not end up alone.

He was shocked out of his reverie as the Nord's spirit stepped back and looked up at the starry night sky with a grin. "Don't go!" shouted Ard, finally finding his voice as he reached out to his husband.

Argis reached out to Ard for a moment before he placed his right hand over his heart and the golden glimmer from his spectral ring flared softly. Ard understood the gesture immediately and mirrored it. "You will always be in my heart too, Argis," he choked out.

The Nord's snowflake form started to unravel and flake away as he looked back up to the sky. "No!" screamed Ard as Argis vanished from before his eyes. The Nord looked at him one last time and the word _live_ blew through the elf's mind once more before the snowflakes that comprised the Nord's heard gently blew apart. The golden glow lingered a moment longer before it dispersed into tiny flecks that settled onto the headstone and dotted it with gleaming gold.

"Argis?" called out the elf quietly. "Argis!" he shouted as he surged to his feet and looked around wildly.

"He is gone, Dovahkiin," softly rumbled Paarthurnax and his words brought the elf to his knees.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Ard looked at the bandit camp below him. His hunger called out to him and he wanted to make a stop in the nearby city of Windhelm soon. Silently he drew out his two dragonbone swords and slipped stealthily down the hillside towards the brightly crackling campfire.

These bandits had been plaguing the region for over a month but no one had managed to track them down and put an end to their efforts. Their scent drifted on the wind and had been like a beacon to the hungry vampire.

Parting the tall grass ever so slightly, he counted six bandits. One was on guard duty, two were asleep in their tents, and the last three were talking excitedly to each other as they drank around the campfire.

Ard moved slowly and stealthily as he warily watched the sentry and approached one of the sleeping bandits. Their security was lax and it quickly became clear that they were relying on the natural lay of the land around them to hide them. Truthfully, the high ridges hid their fire and blocked their noise but the wind had carried their scent far.

With brutal swiftness Ard lunged forward and stabbed his sword through the sleeping man's skull, instantly killing him.

The strike was sudden and silent, which allowed the Altmer to melt back into the darkness. For now at least, the shadows cast by the small fire hide the gruesome body.

Darkness was the elf's friend, and he used it to slip towards the sentry with stealth and speed. In a flurry of motion he sprang forward and jammed both of his blades through the man's back and they exploded out of his chest with two violent spurts of blood. The shocked gasp and rasp of blade on metal alerted the other four bandits.

The three around the fire surged to their feet, food and drink spilling everywhere, as they drew their weapons and bellowed curses.

Ard didn't waste time and sprinted towards the warriors. "FUS RO DAH!" he roared and blew the three warriors back. One of them screamed as he landed in the fire and his fur armour began to smolder while the other two warriors were knocked off their feet.

Without breaking stride Ard disembowelled the thrashing, burning bandit and plunged his blades into the other two prone bandits. His magical blades easily parted their cheap armour and the enchantments he wove into the dragonbone flared to life. The smell of burning poured off of one bandit as a burst of fire and lightning finished him off while his partner gasped as cold and life-leeching spells tore at his vitality.

A hitched breath made Ard slowly turn towards the last bandit. A Redguard stared at him, open-mouthed, as Ard's blades slowly cleaned themselves before the elf sheathed them.

This was the other one who had been asleep in his tent, and his shirtless and dishevelled appearance testified to his surprise. "Surrender, murderer," said the elf slowly. As he moved forward the remaining firelight illuminated his blood starved features.

"Vampire!" hissed the Redguard, who raised his short sword slightly higher as he looked at Ardanthis. The elf could see his opponent shaking in fear and smirked slightly.

"Surrender, murderer," he said again, but this time he infused his voice with a wave of vampiric magic and the effect on the Redguard was immediately visible. The man relaxed his guard and stared numbly at Ard who slowly and unthreateningly approached. "Drop your blade," the elf whispered as he closed the distance and the Redguard complied.

When he got closer, Ard could see the bandit was quite handsome and the elf sighed, "Such a shame. I wish we had met in a tavern instead of these circumstances."

Gently, he tilted the man's head and exposed his neck before he slipped his fangs into the bandit's jugular. The warm rush of nourishing blood flowed down his throat and down the dusky skinned man's chest and he gripped the Redguard tightly. The blood loss quickly became too much for the bandit who sagged and would have fallen had Ard not supported him. The vampire eventually pulled away from the neck wound and lowered the bandit to the ground. As an act of mercy he stabbed the man through the heart rather than leaving him to die slowly from some wild animal or by bleeding to death.

Rejuvenated, he turned towards Windhelm with an eager smile.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The tavern was raucous with the laughter of people and Ard slipped in unnoticed. His dragonscale armour was easy enough to stash in his pack and store in his room. Garbed in the finery that was expected as this higher class tavern, he entered the main room and quickly scanned it.

He quickly had a bottle of mead in his hand and mingled with the crowd. A young Imperial sat in the corner, alone and with a somewhat vacant smile on his features and several empty bottles of mead in front of him. Ard immediately noted that the young Imperial was rather handsome and was obviously eying him.

_Live_. That word from the top of High Hrothgar rolled through his head and he mentally nodded to himself. He struck up a conversation with the intoxicated Imperial and in short order was leading him back to the elf's room.

Their hard bodies collided and an image of Argis flashed through his mind though his husband had been gone for a decade. Ard pulled himself out of the past and tried, if only for that night, to live in that moment with that beautiful, willing Imperial.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

AN: And so it ends. Also, I know that you can't cast healing spells in your vampire form, but I didn't want to let game mechanics make for a clunky story. My apologies if anyone found that off-putting.

This was actually the original ending I had planned for the end of the fic but I didn't want such a sad ending. I wasn't sure if I really wanted a sad ending so I wrote both and decided to let you guys pick which one you want to believe.

I can only thank everyone who actually read through this entire story and offered their criticisms to help me improve. I never actually intended for this to explode to this length, you know. It was actually my first foray into novel-esque writing and every piece of advice given to me has helped me improve my writing. I've read every single comment that's been left and each of them, positive or negative, has meant a lot to me because they mean that someone cared enough about the story to say something.

As my final message, I ask again for any sort of criticism or final comments that you might give. Did you like this ending? I also wonder which ending you guys thought was more fitting, this one or the first one. I'll mark the fic as completed, but any comments will still be emailed to me so don't doubt that I'll still be reading them!


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